KHAK I 

I,  IL  1 ;...  1  JL  -  m.  I.  V    M. 

FREEMAN  TILDE N 


KHAKI 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

HKW  YORK   •    BOSTON    •    CHICAGO   -    DALLAS 
ATLANTA  •    SAN   FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LIMITED 

LONDON  •    BOMBAY  •    CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  LTD. 

TORONTO 


7-  Nf  •» 


KHAKI 

HOW  TREDICK  GOT  INTO 
THE  WAR 


BY 

FREEMAN  TILDEN 


TRONTISPIFCE 
7.  .HENRY 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

1918 

All  rights  reserved 


COPJTBIrtHT.  4948 
BY  THE'  MACJrflJIL'AN*.  fiOM^ANT 

*   •"-.     .-'•••••;••*'  .-;'.• 

fcn<i   ef*Atot>-ped.     Publiahe'd,  jjjiii^. 


To  all  those,  in  camp  and  field,  on  sea  and  land, 

in  the  mines  and  factories,  at  the  forge 

and  plow  — 
To  all  those  who  toil  with  hand  and  brain, 

truly  serving  — 
And  to  those  whose  fate  it  is  to  "  only  stand 

and  wait " — 
Wearers  of  KHAKI  all  —  upon  the  flesh  or 

in  the  heart  — 
This  book. 


2138632 


KHAKI 


i 

IN  Tredick  there  was  a  man  who  admitted  that  he 
was  a  coward. 

This  is  unusual.  It  is  so  unusual  that  you  will  im 
mediately  want  to  know  where  Tredick  is.  And  so 
I  reply  that  Tredick  lies  between  the  seventieth  and  one 
hundred  and  twenty-fifth  degrees  of  longitude,  West; 
and  that,  in  a  general  way,  it  is  south  of  Canada  and 
north  of  Mexico.  I  will  further  state,  to  make  iden 
tification  a  little  easier,  that  Tredick  is  represented  on 
the  maps  by  a  small  round  black  dot ;  that  it  has  three 
churches,  twenty-odd  stores,  several  flourishing  in 
dustries  and  a  Carnegie  Library;  that  the  main  street 
is  called  Main  Street,  and  the  street  that  leads  off  Main 
Street  to  the  railroad  station  is  called  Railroad  Street; 
that  the  hotel  is  called  the  Commercial  Hotel ;  and  that 
there  is  a  square,  or  a  "  common,"  in  the  business 
center,  with  a  granite  shaft  dedicated  to  the  town's 
men  who  fell  during  the  Civil  War. 

But  in  case  I  have  not  been  specific  enough  in  this 
indication,  I  might  add  that  Tredick  was  settled  some 
hundreds  of  years  ago  by  people  who  came  to  the 
New  World  from  England,  Ireland,  Scotland  and 
Wales;  that  these  people  forged,  by  blood  and  muscle, 
a  new  freedom  which  they  had  several  times  to  defend, 
also  with  blood  and  muscle ;  and  that  in  the  month  of 
March  of  the  year  1917  these  people  were  enjoying 
peace  —  a  peace  which  their  ancestors  had  fought  as 
the  very  devil  to  achieve. 

So  now  you  know  where  Tredick  is.  And  if  it 

i 


2  KHAKI 

should  happen  that  you  live  in  Tredick,  and  you  should 
discover  anything,  in  the  narrative  which  follows,  that 
seems  to  reflect  upon  the  integrity  or  character  of 
Tredick,  I  ask  you  to  bear  in  mind  that  I,  the  writer, 
likewise  live  in  Tredick  —  that  your  common  is  my 
common,  your  church  may  be  my  church,  the  store 
you  trade  at  may  very  well  be  the  store  I  trade  at,  and. 
for  all  you  know,  I  may  be  Tom  Gilstar,  the  man  who 
admitted  that  he  was  a  coward.  Or  I  may  be  Sherry 
Gilstar,  his  brother;  or  I  may  be  Matt  Pillicy,  or 
Deacon  Bradshaw,  or  Henry  Hobgood,  or  Sam  Green- 
berg,  or  Miss  Prudence  Perkins,  or  Professor  Wen- 
ham,  or  some  one  other  of  the  two  thousand  persons 
who  live  in  what  the  editor  of  the  Tredick  Enterprise 
calls,  justly  enough,  "  our  beautiful  town." 

I  aim  first  to  take  you  back  to  town  meeting  day, 
in  March,  1917,  when  Tom  Gilstar,  the  man  who  ad 
mitted  that  he  was  a  coward,  was  elected  constable 
of  Tredick.  You  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  the  town 
officers  who  were  that  day  elected  in  the  Town  Hall, 
had  in  fact  been  elected  several  evenings  before  in 
the  sitting  room  of  Deacon  Bradshaw,  the  last  house 
on  the  left  hand  side  of  Valley  street,  going  North. 
You  know  that  the  Deacon,  and  Wells  Hardy,  and 
Harry  Upton,  and  Fred  Payne,  made  up  their  "  slate," 
and  carried  it  through  without  a  yip  from  anybody 
except  Tobe  Willis,  the  town  drunkard,  who  voted 
"  No  "  on  everything,  just  out  of  cussedness,  and  was 
finally  led  home  by  a  supporting  committee  of  two. 

But  what  perhaps  you  don't  know,  is  a  little  con 
versation  that  went  on,  at  the  Deacon's,  concerning 
the  august  position  of  Constable,  and  the  fitness  of  the 
candidate. 

Fred  Payne  asked,  "  What  about  Constable, 
Deacon?  Fiske  says  he  won't  take  the  job  again. 
He's  too  busy  with  other  things." 


KHAKI  3 

The  Deacon  said,  "  I  had  Tom  Gilstar  in  mind. 
He'd  do." 

"  Gilstar !  "  shouted  two  or  three  of  the  men  at  once. 
"  Are  you  joking,  Deacon?  " 

"  I  don't  joke,"  replied  the  Deacon,  with  severity. 
"  What's  the  matter  with  Tom  Gilstar?  " 

"  He  hasn't  got  the  sand  of  a  jack  rabbit,"  said 
somebody. 

"  Why,  that  big  booby  is  afraid  of  his  own  shadow. 
You  know  it  yourself,"  somebody  else  said,  addressing 
the  deacon. 

"  Tom  isn't  what  you'd  call  courageous,  probably," 
replied  Deacon  Bradshaw.  "  But  look  at  him.  He's 
a  great  big  strapping  fellow.  He's  as  strong  as  an 
ox.  And  he's  as  good  a  boy  as  ever  lived.  He's  de 
serving." 

"  I'll  admit  he's  deserving.  I  like  Tom,  myself," 
said  Wells  Hardy,  proprietor  of  the  Tredick  Cash  Mar 
ket.  "  But  let's  give  him  some  other  job,  and  have  a 
constable  with  nerve  enough  to  tight,  if  it  was  neces 
sary,  to  protect  our  lives  and  property." 

Deacon  Bradshaw  permitted  himself  the  gayety  of 
a  somber  smile.  He  gazed  upon  Wells  Hardy  with 
the  tolerant  quizzicality  of  a  parent  toward  the  rash 
enthusiasm  of  youth.  "  Wells,"  he  said,  "  you  know 
as  well  as  I  do  that  nothing  ever  happens  in  Tredick. 
Once  in  a  while  Tobe  Willis  has  to  be  put  in  the  cooler. 
Sometimes  a  tramp  straggles  through  here.  Occa 
sionally,  I'm  sorry  to  say,  one  of  our  folks  evades  the 
dog-tax.  What  else  is  there  ?  " 

"Then  why  have  any  constable?"  ventured  Wells 
Hardy. 

'  There  must  be  a  constable.  We've  always  had  a 
constable,"  was  the  reply  which  settled  the  matter. 
"  So  I  figure  it  out  this  way:  Tom  Gilslar  is  big  and 
strong.  He  looks,  at  least  in  size,  like  a  regular  tough 


4  KHAKI 

customer.  You  and  I  and  the  rest  of  the  home  folks 
may  know  he's  chicken-hearted  —  but  strangers  don't 
know  it,  and  it's  strangers  he's  to  frighten,  not  us. 
Tom  will  do  well  enough." 

"  I  guess  the  deacon's  right,  as  he  most  always  is," 
said  Fred  Payne.  "  Write  him  down,  deacon." 

From  the  town  hall,  on  election  day,  Deacon  Brad- 
shaw  went  straight  to  the  home  of  Tom  Gilstar.  He 
swung  his  gold-headed  cane,  and  walked  with  the  mien, 
albeit  a  little  wavering  in  the  joints,  of  a  man  who  had 
helped  make  destiny,  even  the  small  corner  of  destiny 
represented  by  Tredick.  When  he  approached  the 
gate  that  opened  into  the  Gilstar  front  yard,  his  sharp 
gray  eyes  first  appraised  the  house  and  its  surround 
ings.  Then  he  looked  up  and  down  the  street,  as 
should  a  cautious  general,  to  make  sure  of  his  "  ter 
rain."  Then,  suddenly,  he  cocked  his  head  on  one  side, 
and  stood  listening.  He  could  hear  a  phonograph, 
playing  within.  A  disdainful  ghost-smile  came  on  the 
deacon's  mouth.  To  the  deacon  all  phonographs  were 
sentimental,  and  the  deacon  despised  the  sentimental. 

Evidently,  some  one  else  despised  the  sentimental, 
too.  As  Deacon  Bradshaw  entered  the  kitchen,  with 
out  the  formality  of  knocking,  he  heard  a  shrill,  acid 
voice  say,  in  the  sitting  room :  "  Do  stop  that  horrible 
thing,  Phoebe!  I  simply  can't  stand  that  tune.  It's 
nauseating!  " 

-Silver  Threads  Among  the  Gol-l-ld,"  the 
phonograph  was  about  to  repeat,  lugubriously,  when 
"  Phoebe"  must  have  obligingly  switched  off  the  ma 
chine,  and  it  ended : 

•   among   the    G-rrrrrrr  —  ug!"    and    lapsed 
into  silence. 

A  sweet,  patient  voice  said,  "  Don't  you  like  that 
tune,  Prudence  ?  " 


KHAKI  5 

"  No,  I  don't.  You  know  I  don't,"  was  the  sharp 
answer. 

"  I  like  it,"  went  on  the  other  voice,  with  that  queer, 
innocent  stubbornness  of  the  pure-in-heart. 

"I  agree  with  Prudence  —  it's  trashy  nonsense!" 
exclaimed  the  deacon,  dramatically,  with  a  double 
knock  on  the  half -open  sitting  room  door.  He  en 
tered,  hat  in  hand. 

Phoebe  Gilstar,  Tom  Gilstar's  mother,  was  sitting  in 
a  rocking  chair,  at  the  side  of  the  table  whereon  rested 
the  offending  music  machine.  On  the  other  side  of  the 
table,  with  her  hat  on,  and  a  few  small  parcels  in 
her  hands,  sat  a  young  woman  who,  at  the  deacon's 
entrance,  flashed  a  glance  at  him,  and  then  lowered 
her  eyes  shyly.  Queerly  enough,  the  young  woman 
had  the  same  delicate  profile,  with  the  same  tenderly 
sensitive  mouth,  as  Mrs.  Gilstar,  though  she  was  of 
another  family  —  another  race,  indeed.  She  was  the 
daughter  of  Matt  Pillicy,  the  French-Canadian  who 
kept  the  livery  in  Tredick.  Her  name  was  Antonia. 

The  other  woman,  Miss  Prudence  Perkins,  stood  in 
the  doorway  that  led  upstairs.  There  were  heavy  cur 
tains  over  this  doorway,  and  evidently  Miss  Prudence 
had  just  come  down  (perhaps  to  still  the  phonograph) 
as  the  deacon  entered. 

Miss  Perkins  had  none  of  the  tenderness  displayed 
in  her  face,  that  characterized  her  sister,  Mrs.  Gil- 
star.  Her  mouth  was  a  straight  line.  Once  in  a 
while  her  lips  parted  in  something  like  a  wireless 
flash  of  humor,  and  her  eyes,  which  saw  through  every 
thing,  and  bored  their  gray  way  into  your  very  inner 
most  reactions,  when  she  looked  at  you,  were  not  a 
bit  unkindly.  But  they  were  defensively  edged,  like 
well-kept  tools.  Her  tawny  hair  was  untouched  with 
white,  though  she  was  older  than  Phoebe  by  two  years. 


6  KHAKI 

And  she  frizzled  it  into  chaste  curlettes,  upon  her  fore 
head,  in  defiance  of  modern  methods  of  coiffure. 
Also,  in  contempt  of  Time,  she  scorned  the  black  silk 
and  white  lace  of  her  sister,  and  indulged  in  a  boister 
ous  light  blue  gown,  with  a  touch  of  Indian-corn  in  it 
here  and  there. 

She  was  looking  straight  at  Deacon  Bradshaw,  now ; 
and  that  dignified  individual,  whose  own  eyes  com 
monly  made  the  lightminded  quail,  perceptibly  dropped 
to  the  stature  of  an  ordinary  mortal. 

"  How  d'ye  do,"  greeted  the  deacon,  nodding  to 
Mrs.  Gilstar  and  Miss  Antonia.  "  How  d'ye  do,  Pru 
dence." 

Mrs.  Gilstar  had  risen  quickly,  and  her  hand  was 
upon  the  deacon's  hat,  and  her  invitation  was  toward 
a  chair.  Miss  Antonia  replied  in  a  clear,  modest  voice. 
But  Miss  Prudence  Perkins  answered  crisply,  "  How- 
dye  do,  Charles.  I  didn't  hear  you  knock,  outside." 

Deacon  Bradshaw  hadn't  knocked,  outside.  Miss 
Perkins  knew  he  hadn't.  The  deacon  showed  two  red 
spots  just  above  his  white  beard,  and  hastened  to  say, 
"  I've  got  news  for  you.  Phcebe,  your  son  Tom  is 
elected  constable." 

"  Constable !  "  Mrs.  Gilstar  breathed  it  out  in  gen 
uine  amazement. 

'  Yes.  Town  meeting  is  just  over.  I  came  over 
because  I  thought  —  you'd  like  to  know  from  the 
proper  source.  I  —  er  —  may  say  I  had  something  to 
do  with  his  getting  the  place.  Tom  is  a  good  boy. 
The  place  is  a  good  place.  A  sinecure,  you  might  say. 
The  salary  is  six  hundred  dollars  a  year,  and  some  fees, 
too.  He's  lucky." 

Tom's  mother  was  plainly  dazed.  She  stared  at  the 
deacon  as  though  the  news  had  frightened  her.  Fi 
nally  she  gasped.  "It  —  it's  kind  of  you,  Charles. 
Does  —  Tom  —  of  course  he  knows  about  it  ?  " 


KHAKI  7 

"  I  don't  know.  I  dare  say  he  does,  by  this  time. 
He  didn't  know  in  advance.  My  policy,  you  know, 
isn't  to  advertise  what  we  mean  to  do.  Where  is 
Tom?" 

"  I  think  he's  at  the  express  office,  helping  out." 
The  white-haired  woman  hesitated,  timidly.     "  Would 
you  mind,  Charles,  if  I  should  run  over  there  to — 
tell  him  —  and  bring  him  over  here?  " 

"  Good  idea,"  said  Mr.  Bradshaw.  "  Bring  him 
over,  Phcebe." 

"  I'll  go  with  you,"  said  Miss  Pillicy,  rising. 

"  No  —  I'd  rather  not,  dear,"  replied  Tom's  mother. 
"  I'd  almost  rather  —  you  know  —  be  alone." 

The  deacon  smiled  another  mirthless  smile.  This, 
in  his  estimation,  was  more  sentimentality. 

"  Well,  anyway,  I'll  have  to  be  going  home,"  said 
the  young  woman. 

"  Stay  a  while,  Antonia,"  came  from  Prudence,  in 
that  voice  of  hers  which  was  probably  intended  to  be  a 
request,  but  sounded  like  a  command. 

When  Mrs.  Gilstar  had  tied  her  black  bonnet  under 
her  chin,  and  gone,  there  was  long  silence.  Deacon 
Bradshaw  tapped  his  cane  on  the  floor  and  cleared  his 
throat.  Miss  Perkins  was  looking  at  him.  The  dea 
con  knew  it.  And  there  they  sat  —  the  two  shrewdest 
business  men  in  Tredick  —  the  two  richest  individuals 
in  the  county  —  the  two  persons  who  for  thirty  years 
had  been  rivals  in  the  matter  of  acquiring  mortgages, 
gilt-edged  bonds,  parcels  of  land,  and  bankbooks. 
Two  capable  business  men  they  were  —  and  the  woman 
was  the  abler  of  the  two  —  and  they  both  knew  it. 
Both  wholly  honest,  as  they  construed  honesty  and  they 
construed  it  pretty  justly;  both  unbending  and  unfor 
giving  in  the  face  of  sharp  practice  or  injustice:  both 
uncannily  clever  in  scenting  a  bargain  and  driving  it 
—  they  were  different  in  this :  that  the  woman  was  the 


8  KHAKI 

abler  of  the  two,  and  knew  it,  and  it  served  to  make  her 
generous,  where  the  deacon  was  parsimonious.  She 
had  been  known  to  forget  a  mortgage-note ;  the  deacon 
never. 

And  there  they  sat. 

Miss  Perkins  said,  "What's  the  reason,  Charles?" 

"Reason?"     The  deacon  tried  to  look  innocent. 

"  Yes,  the  reason.  You  have  a  reason  for  every 
thing.  Tom  isn't  a  fellow  you'd  pick  for  constable, 
naturally.  You  don't  care  anything  about  Phoebe." 

"  It's  for  the  good  of  the  town,  Prudence.  Tom 
will  make  a  good  constable.  He's  big  and  strong,  and 
the  very  sight  of  him  would  frighten  evildoers.  And 
I  like  Tom.  Tom  is  a  good  boy.  He's  a  comfort  to 
his  mother." 

"  What  else?  "  \vas  the  pitiless  pursuit  of  truth. 

"  Why  —  er  — "  The  deacon  squirmed.  Then  he 
blurted  out,  "  1  thought  you'd  appreciate  it,  Prudence." 
He  glanced  anxiously  at  Antonia  as  he  spoke,  and  was 
relieved  to  note  that  she  was  not  paying  attention  —  or 
seemed  not  to  be.  Miss  Perkins  acknowledged  the 
compliment  without  warmth,  by  nodding  her  head. 

"  How'd  you  know  the  boy  wanted  to  be  con 
stable?" 

"  Wrhy,  of  course  he  will." 

"  I  don't  know  as  he  will.  However,  he'll  speak 
for  himself.  Here  they  come  now  !  " 

The  sitting  room  door  opened,  and  mother  and  son 
entered,  hand  in  hand.  Just  before  she  dropped  his 
hand,  Mrs.  Gilstar  gave  it  a  little  squeeze. 

Tom  Gilstar  filled  the  doorway.  His  broad  shoul 
ders,  his  height,  some  six  feet  and  an  inch,  his  trained 
figure,  almost  like  that  of  a  professional  athlete,  ful 
filled  the  deacon's  estimate  of  him.  He  wore  a  pair 
of  blue  overalls,  and  his  hands  were  stained  with  the 
oil  barrels  he  had  been  handling,  but  his  face  was 


KHAKI  9 

pleasant  to  look  at.  He  had  the  same  sensitive  nose 
and  mouth,  and  the  same  shy  blue-gray  eyes,  as  his 
mother.  He  stood  there  awkwardly,  after  greeting 
the  others. 

"  Tom,  I  congratulate  you,"  said  the  deacon,  with 
great  pride,  extending  his  hand. 

"  I'm  sure  I  thank  you,  deacon,"  replied  the  young 
fellow.  "  But  —  I'm  afraid  —  I  don't  —  that  is  —  I 
can't  take  the  place." 

"  Why  not,  sir  ?  "  barked  the  deacon. 

"  Because  I'm  not  fitted  for  it." 

"  Nonsense !  That's  just  why  we  got  you  the  place. 
You're  the  very  one  for  it."  The  deacon  turned  to 
Antonia  Pillicy,  and  in  a  tone  that  intimated  that  he 
was  especially  honoring  her  by  asking  her  opinion, 
added,  "Don't  you  think  so,  Antonia?" 

The  girl's  big  dark  eyes  had  been  fixed  on  Tom  Gil- 
star's  face.  Her  hands  were  clasped  tightly  in  her  lap ; 
she  bent  forward  slightly  in  an  attitude  of  nervous  ex 
pectancy.  As  the  deacon  addressed  her,  she  looked 
down  quickly  and  replied,  "I  —  I  think  it's  for  Tom  to 
decide." 

"I  don't  want  you  to  think  I'm  not  grateful,  Mr. 
Bradshaw,"  said  the  big  fellow,  slowly.  "  I  appreci 
ate  your  interest.  But  —  I  --  I  never  could  shoot  any 
body.  I  don't  want  to  fight  with  anybody,  even." 

"  Shoot  anybody !  "  snorted  the  deacon,  exasperated. 
"  Who  asked  you  to  shoot  anybody?  Did  Fiske  ever 
shoot  anybody,  the  ten  years  he  was  constable  ?  Don't 
be  a  fool.  Nothing  ever  happens  in  Tredick.  You'll 
walk  around  nights  and  try  the  doors  of  the  stores,  to 
see  they're  locked,  and  meet  the  up-train  to  see  that  no 
boozers  get  off,  and  —  that  sort  of  thing.  You'll  carry 
a  pistol,  as  a  matter  of  course.  But  the  chances  are 
you'll  never  use  it,  in  a  lifetime.  You're  not  afraid  to 
carry  one,  I  suppose?  "  The  deacon  became  scornful. 


io  KHAKI 

"  People  who  don't  have  them,  don't  use  them,"  was 
the  unexpected  reply. 

Deacon  Bradshaw  was  not  inclined  to  argue.  He 
threw  back  his  head  and  issued  a  manifesto.  "If  you 
don't  take  it,  Tom,  I  wash  my  hands  of  you,  that's  all. 
It's  the  chance  of  a  lifetime." 

Mrs.  Gilstar  put  out  one  hand  toward  her  son,  and 
said,  timidly,  "  You'd  better  consider  it,  Tom.  You 
know  the  deacon  knows  about  such  things." 

Prudence  Perkins  said,  "  Tom,  either  you  want  it, 
or  you  don't  want  it.  There's  no  law  that  compels 
you  to  take  a  job  you  don't  want.  And  I  don't  know 
just  what  difference  it  makes,  Charles,  whether  you 
wash  your  hands  of  Tom,  or  whether  you  wash  your 
hands  at  all.  Our  family  can  take  care  of  itself." 

The  deacon  backed  water  in  a  hurry.  "  Pshaw, 
Prudence,  you  know  what  I  meant,"  he  said. 

Prudence  ignored  the  apology.  She  was  still  shoot 
ing  toward  Tom.  "  I  will  say,  Tom,"  she  went  on, 
"  I'd  like  to  see  a  little  more  of  the  man  in  you.  I 
don't  think  being  constable  is  much  of  a  job.  But  it's 
better  than  being  a  coward." 

"  Prudence ! "  came  from  Mrs.  Gilstar.  "  You 
don't  mean  that." 

"  I  didn't  say  he  was  a  coward,"  was  the  deft  re 
joinder.  "  I  say  being  constable  is  better  than  being 
a  coward.  I  tell  you  flatly,  though,  Phoebe,  there  are 
a  lot  of  people  in  Tredick  who  think  what  you  thought 
I  said." 

Mrs.  Gilstar  looked  up  at  the  picture  over  the  man 
telpiece.  It  was  that  of  a  youth  in  Union  blue,  of  Civil 
War  time.  "  Tom's  father  enlisted  when  he  was  fif 
teen,"  she  said,  with  glistening  eyes. 

Antonia  said  nothing.  Her  eyes  were  upon  Tom 
Gilstar's  face,  and  her  red  lips  seemed  dry  and  tight. 

Tom  Gilstar  rubbed  the  back  of  his  hand  across  his 


KHAKI  Hi 

forehead,  which  was  wet  with  perspiration.  His  de 
cent,  attractive  face  was  red ;  his  eyes  with  their  queer, 
wondering,  wistful  expression,  looked  straight  ahead 
to  the  opposite  wall. 

"  Could  I  let  you  know  the  first  thing  in  the  morning, 
deacon  ?  "  Tom  said,  finally. 

"  Well,  yes.  But  I  take  it  for  granted  it'll  be  all 
right,"  was  the  reply.  The  deacon  fetched  his  own 
hat  from  the  sewing  machine  top.  At  the  doorway  he 
turned  to  Prudence.  "  Alice  wanted  me  to  ask  you  to 
come  to  supper  to-night,"  he  said. 

"  Not  to-night.  To-morrow  night,  perhaps,"  said 
the  spinster,  decidedly. 

"  I've  got  to  go  back  to  the  express  office  for  a 
while,"  said  Tom.  So  he  and  Antonia  went  out  to 
gether. 

They  walked  along  silently  for  a  time.  Then  the 
girl  put  her  hand  softly  into  the  man's,  and  let  it  lie 
there.  They  stopped  under  a  big  elm.  '  Tom,"  she 
said,  very  soberly  and  gently,  "I  —  told  you,  last 
week,  I'd  think  over  —  what  you  asked.  I've  been 
thinking  it  over  —  so  much.  Tom,  I'm  afraid  —  it 
can't  be.  That  I  can't.  I'm  so  sorry,  Tom.  I'm 
very  fond  of  you.  But  —  I  mustn't." 

The  big  fellow  looked  at  her  dejectedly.  "  Tony," 
he  murmured,  hoarsely,  "  don't  say  that.  Don't  give 
me  any  answer  at  all  —  now.  —  Or,"  he  choked  out, 
"if  it  was  somebody  else — " 

"  No,  Tom.     Nobody  else.     Truly,  not  that." 

"  You  don't  care  enough  for  me,  then,"  he  offered. 

"  I  care  more  for  you  than  for  any  one  else  in  the 
world,  Tom.  I  have  reason  to.  I  shall  never  forget, 
Tom,  how,  when  I  was  a  little  girl,  and  first  came  to 
school  here  —  and  couldn't  speak  English  very  well  — 
and  they  called  me  Frenchy  —  how  your  sister  Doro 
thy  came  to  me  and  made  friends,  and  helped  me  with 


12  KHAKI 

my  studies.  I  didn't  know  then,  but  I  know  now,  be 
cause  she  told  me  afterwards,  that  it  was  you  that 
asked  her  to.  Oh,  Tom,  there  are  a  good  many  things 
I  am  grateful  for.  I  shall  always,  always,  care  much 
for  you.  But  this  —  to  be  your  wife  —  I  don't  dare." 

He  was  silent.  They  could  hear  the  beating  of  their 
hearts,  so  close  together.  Then  she  threw  all  her 
thoughts  into  one  poignant  low  cry : 

"  Tom,  why  do  you  let  them  call  you  a  coward  ? 
Why  do  you  let  them?  " 

The  man  winced.  "  Perhaps  —  they  are  right,"  he 
answered,  dully. 

"  No !  "  she  cried  at  him.  "  It  is  not  so,  Tom.  I 
know  better.  I  know." 

He  shook  his  head.     "  It  is  something,"  he  said. 

"  I  hate  fighting.     This  horrible  war,  in  Europe,  Tony 

-  it  almost  drives  me  mad,  when  I  think  of  it.     The 

idea  of  righting  —  of  killing  —  blood  —  sometimes  I 

can't  get  to  sleep  for  hours  at  night." 

"  And  you  think,  Tom,  you  are  the  only  one  who  lies 
awake  thinking  of  it !  "  replied  the  girl.  "  Don't  you 
suppose  millions  of  people  feel  the  same  way?  " 

'That's  the  reason  you  —  can't  marry  me,  then?" 
he  asked,  quickly. 

"  That  reason  ?  I  don't  know  exactly  what  reason 
you  mean.  That  you  don't  fight  and  quarrel  and  take 
chances  like  other  young  fellows?  No;  not  that. 
There's  something  fine,  very  gentle,  in  you,  Tom,  that 
I  love.  Anybody  would  love  it,  too.  But  I  would 
want  you  to  fight  —  for  me,  Tom  —  if  we  were  mar 
ried,  and  there  was  ever  any  need,  I  think  most  girls 
feel  like  that.  I  suppose  it's  terribly  foolish  of  me  to 
say  it  —  and  yet,  is  it  so  foolish,  when  we  see  what  is 
happening  in  France  and  Belgium?  —  that  if  the  time 
ever  came  —  and  we  had  a  little  home  —  you  would 


KHAKI  13 

fight  —  yes,  you  could  kill,  if  it  were  necessary  —  to 
save  —  us." 

"  But,  Tony,  there  won't  be  any  such  time.  It's 
foolish  to  consider  it  seriously,"  Tom  said. 

"  It  may  be.  But  I  can't  feel  any  other  way,  now. 
I  don't  think  you  are  a  coward,  Tom.  I  think,  maybe, 
if  the  time  came,  you  could  be  morally  brave  —  I  think 
that's  what  they  call  it  —  enduring  sorrow,  and  all 
that.  But  —  I'm  afraid." 

"  Afraid  to  trust  yourself  to  me?  "  he  added. 

"  Just  that  -  Oh,  Tom,"  she  said,  "  even  when  I 
say  this  to  yon,  I  ache  —  in  here.  I  want  —  to  be 
happy.  I  want  you  to  be  happy.  But  —  I  have  told 
you  what  was  right  I  should  say." 

He  raised  his  eyes  to  her  after  a  while,  and  asked, 
softly,  "  Do  you  think  I  should  take  this  job  as  con 
stable,  Tony  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Because  —  something  may  happen  —  to 
make  me  think  differently.  It's  no  work  for  you, 
Tom,  I  know  that.  You  ought  to  have  left  Tredick 
long  ago.  There's  nothing  here  for  you.  They  look 
upon  you  as  a  boy.  You  are  brighter  than  most  any 
body  —  you  have  a  fine,  clear  mind,  in  business  —  my 
father  says  so  —  but  there's  nothing  here  for  you. 
Why  have  you  stayed  here  so  long,  Tom?" 

"  I  didn't  want  to  go  away  and  leave  my  mother 
alone,"  was  the  unsuspecting  reply. 

The  girl  sighed.  She  put  a  hand  on  his  arm. 
"  Good  night,  Tom.  I  shall  always  think  of  you. 
Maybe  some  day,  it  will  all  be  changed." 

As  they  went  in  opposite  directions,  the  big  fellow 
turned  once  to  look  at  her.  She  was  already  out  of 
sight. 

"  I  wonder  if  I  am  a  coward?  "  he  said,  aloud. 

He  answered,  "  I  guess  I  am." 


I4  KHAKI 

Meanwhile,  in  his  home,  Deacon  Bradshaw  was 
walking  up  and  down  his  sitting  room,  congratulating 
himself,  in  the  presence  of  an  audience  of  one  —  his 
daughter  Alice  —  on  the  events  of  the  day.  His 
"  slate  "  had  gone  through  without  a  hitch.  And  it 
never  occurred  to  the  excellent  deacon  that  he  had  done 
the  town  anything  but  a  high  service,  even  in  giving  it 
a  constable  who  admitted  that  he  was  a  coward. 


II 

TOM  GILSTAR  asked  himself  whether  he  were  a  cow 
ard  ;  and  out  of  a  certain  rugged  honesty  of  heart,  he 
answered  that  he  probably  was.  Unfortunately  for 
Tom's  peace  of  mind,  there  was  nobody  standing  by, 
to  explain  to  him  that  he  was  a  pacifist.  I  don't  know 
that  it  would  have  made  Tom  entirely  happy,  if  this 
had  been  pointed  out  to  him.  Antonia  had  said  that 
Tom  had  a  good  mind,  and  it  was  so ;  and  it  is  about 
as  hard  to  wring  pleasure  out  of  being  a  pacifist,  as  it 
would  be  to  congratulate  yourself  on  being  the  hole  of 
a  doughnut,  or  a  window  from  which  the  lights  of 
glass  have  been  poked  out. 

The  fact  is,  Tredick  was  far  more  satisfied  with  Tom 
than  was  Tom  with  himself;  and  this  brings  us  to  the 
truth  about  Tredick.  Tredick  was  a  pacifist  town. 

When  the  Great  War  broke  out,  in  August,  1914, 
Tredick  went  through  the  usual  emotions  of  surprise, 
excitement  and  wonder.  There  was  talk  of  "  brave 
little  Belgium,"  there  was  marvel  at  the  precision  of 
the  German  military  machine,  there  was  a  certain  curi 
osity  as  to  how  soon  Paris  would  fall,  and  the  show 
would  be  over. 

As  to  where  the  right  lay,  Tredick  had  no  definite 
notion.  There  were  hazy  feelings  of  antagonism,  one 
way  or  another.  The  Revolutionary  War,  while  not 
exactly  a  live  issue  in  Tredick,  has  still  left  a  bit  of 
suspicion  which  lingered  into  the  twentieth  century. 
There  had  been  a  German  bakery  in  Tredick  some 
years  before,  and  the  proprietor  had  left  some  hun 
dreds  of  dollars  in  unpaid  bills  behind  him ;  and  this 
served  to  quicken  the  revulsion  against  the  Teutons, 

15 


1 6  KHAKI 

particularly  with  those  who  had  been  creditors.  There 
was  a  shadowy  consciousness  that  somehow,  some 
where,  the  United  States  had  fallen  into  an  honorable 
debt  to  France,  and  had  never  quite  settled  up.  But 
the  overwhelming  feeling  was,  after  the  War  had  gone 
past  its  second  month,  and  nobody  stopped  it,  and 
after  it  had  gone  by  its  third  month,  and  nobody 
stopped  it,  that  the  War  was  a  terrible  mistake  on 
somebody's  part,  and  that  somebody  should  stop  it. 

Through  the  country,  people  were  saying,  "  Business 
as  Usual !  "  even  those  who  had  no  business,  usual  or 
unusual.  Tredick  echoed,  with  all  its  heart,  "  Busi 
ness  as  Usual !  "  But  Tredick  went  a  good  deal  far 
ther  than  that,  in  its  thoughts.  It  said,  "  Everything 
as  Usual  "  -  including  the  price  of  flour,  the  operation 
of  the  saw-mill  and  woolen-mill,  the  Wednesday  and 
Saturday  picture-show,  the  crowd  on  the  streets  Satur 
day  afternoon,  and  the  rain,  sun,  moon,  stars,  and 
everything  else  which  had  become  identified  with 
Tredick. 

Tredick  said  to  Europe,  in  its  heart,  "  Don't  be  fool 
ish !  But  if  you  must  be  foolish,  don't  disturb  Tre 
dick." 

The  trains  from  the  South  have  to  crawl  over  a 
mountain,  to  get  into  Tredick ;  and  they  crawl  over 
another  mountain  to  get  out.  Tredick  nestles,  there 
fore,  like  a  broody  hen,  in  a  sort  of  nest  surrounded  by 
hills.  All  the  territory  the  other  sides  of  the  hills, 
which  you  can't  see  from  Tredick,  is  the  United  States. 
Beyond  the  United  States,  is  the  World.  Tredick  is 
part  of  the  United  States,  and  is  proud  of  it.  The 
smallest  schoolhouse  has  its  flag,  and  the  flag  is  saluted 
every  morning.  The  rest  of  the  world  is  a  queer 
place  —  and  though  it  has  interesting  cathedrals  and 
ruins  —  you  never  can  tell  what  may  happen  there. 
Indeed,  there  was  a  huge  satisfaction  in  Tredick,  in 


KHAKI  17 

1914,  that  it  was  not  a  part  of  that  World,  out  there, 
where  such  disgraceful  goings-on  were  going  on. 

Well,  it  was  bad  enough  to  have  the  terrible  war 
going  on  throughout  the  Winter  of  1914-5;  but  when 
Spring  came,  and  the  War  did  not  stop,  it  put  the  nose 
of  at  least  one  person  in  Tredick  completely  out  of 
joint.  This  was  Prof.  George  Watling  Wenham,  prin 
cipal  of  the  High  School  of  Tredick.  For  a  number 
of  years,  Professor  Wenham  had  picked  up  a  hand 
some  honorarium  by  escorting  tourists  in  a  personally 
conducted  trip  through  the  European  cities.  His  party 
had  been  caught  by  the  war  in  England,  in  the  Sum 
mer  of  1914,  and  had  suffered  untold  misery  from 
being  delayed  four  hours  on  the  trip  from  London  to 
Liverpool.  However,  the  party  had  the  satisfaction 
of  being  regarded  as  war-scarred  veterans  when  they 
got  home.  Between  you  and  me,  Professor  Wenham 
had  looked  forward  to  escorting  his  next  year's  party 
to  the  Belgian  battle-fields.  But  next  year  came,  and 
the  war  still  continued. 

Professor  Wenham  became  a  pacifist.  He  was 
probably  the  first  person  in  Tredick  who  knew  what 
the  word  meant. 

But,  curious  as  it  may  sound,  the  thing  that  made 
Tredick  avowedly  pacifist,  was  not  the  price  of  corn- 
meal,  which  steadily  rose  and  rose  till  there  was  no 
money  in  poultry :  it  was  the  sinking  of  the  Lusitania. 
The  news  that  a  great  ship,  loaded  with  men,  women 
and  children  —  not  soldiers  —  had  been  shattered  on 
the  great  ocean,  and  left  to  its  fate,  sent  a  sickening 
shudder  through  Tredick.  This  was  war,  then? 
This  was  war? 

"  If  that  is  War,"  said  Tredick,  "  we  want  none  of 
it!  "  You  get  the  inference  that  the  men,  women  and 
babies  on  the  Lusitania  DID  want  war,  were  going  into 
War  for  the  joy  of  carnage.  Tredick  got  no  ironic 


i8  KHAKI 

inference  like  this.  All  Tredick  got  was  a  shudder 
and  a  more  definite  notion  than  it  had  had  for  a  long 
time. 

For  weeks  after  that  Lusitania  murder,  Tredick 
people  looked  at  each  other  and  said,  shaking  their 
heads,  "  War  is  a  terrible  thing!  " 

It  was  like  the  discovery  of  a  new  element  in  Na 
ture,  or  a  new  theorem  in  geometry.  "  War  is  a  ter 
rible  thing!" 

Prof.  George  Watling  Wenham  met  Deacon  Brad- 
shaw  on  the  street  in  front  of  the  postoffice,  and  said, 
weighing  each  word,  "  War  is  a  terrible  thing!  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  deacon,  with  an  answering  way, 
"  War  is  a  terrible  thing,  professor." 

When  the  deacon  entered  the  postoffice,  he  came 
close  to  Henry  Hobgood,  the  postmaster,  and  said, 
slowly  and  awfully,  "  War  is  a  terrible  thing,  Henry." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Henry,  "  War  is  a  terrible  thing." 
Then  Henry,  who  had  his  own  troubles,  too,  added, 
after  a  long  pause,  "  Look  at  them  sacks  of  parcel  post 
stuff,  deacon!  They're  making  a  reg'lar  damn  ex 
press-man  of  us." 

But  just  the  same,  Henry  Hobgood  was  not  forget 
ting  the  truth  which  had  just  been  offered  him.  He 
went  home  and  told  Mrs.  Hobgood  that  war  was  a 
terrible  thing. 

Then  came  a  doleful  fear  and  trembling.  There 
were  American  Citizens  on  the  Lusitania.  Would, 
could,  should  the  United  States  go  to  war  about  that? 

Prof.  George  Watling  Wenham  said,  in  a  tone  of 
authority,  "  They  had  no  business  on  the  Lusitania. 
They  were  warned  not  to  travel  on  that  English  ship." 
Tredick  took  hope  in  an  instant.  Tredick  said,  at 
first  in  a  small,  questioning  voice,  "  They  had  no  busi 
ness  on  that  ship?  " 

Then  Tredick  said  in  a  little  louder  voice,  "  What 


KHAKI  19 

right  have  a  few  stubborn  people  to  drag  us  into 
war?" 

Then  Tredick  said,  in  a  little  louder  voice,  "  What 
RIGHT  have  a  few  stubborn  people  to  drag  us  into  this 
terrible  war?  " 

Then  Tredick  said,  very  loudly,  "  WHAT  RIGHT 
have  a  FEW  STUBBORN  PEOPLE  to  drag  us  into  THIS 

TERRIBLE    WAR?  " 

There  were  diplomatic  notes  dispatched  from  the 
United  States  to  Europe.  Tredick  read  the  news 
papers  more  avidly  than  Tredick  had  ever  read  any 
thing.  It  was  all  very  confusing  to  Tredick.  What 
did  the  President  mean  by  this  ?  What  does  he  mean 
by  that  ?  He  is  a  good  man  ;  he  is  a  wise  man ;  he  will 
not  drag  us  into  war  —  or  will  he  ?  He  will  not.  But 
he  had  better  be  careful  —  very  careful.  War  is  a 
terrible  thing.  We  are  so  happy  as  we  are!  See 
Tredick  —  how  peaceful  Tredick  is !  See  those  young 
men  —  how  strong  and  supple  they  are.  You  would 
not  send  such  fine  boys  to  war,  would  you?  Who 
started  this  war,  anyway?  Kings  and  gun-manufac 
turers  !  And  you  want  to  drag  Tredick  into  it !  No, 
no !  We  have  no  quarrel  with  anybody.  Ha,  ha ! 
You  are  a  good  fellow,  Fritz  —  shake  hands  with  Tre 
dick!  See,  we  have  no  quarrel,  have  we?  War  is  a 
terrible  thing.  Ask  Joe  Finney.  He  fought  in  the 
Civil  'War. —  So  Tredick,  in  the  person  of  Professor 
Wenham,  asks  Joe  Finney. 

Joe  was  lounging  in  the  sunshine  in  front  of  the 
postoffice  when  Professor  Wenham  approached  him 
and  said,  "  War  is  a  terrible  thing,  Joe !  I  guess  you 
can  testify  to  that." 

Joe  is  seventy-eight  years  old.  Chewing  tobacco 
and  whisky  should  have  killed  him  long  ago.  Joe 
spat  into  the  gutter,  wiped  his  mouth  with  the  back 
of  his  hand,  and  answered,  "  Oh,  I  dunno,  professor. 


20  KHAKI 

I  had  a  good  time.  Only  thing  ever  bothered  me  was 
lice." 

"  Joe  isn't  over  bright,  anyway,"  remarked  the  pro 
fessor,  afterwards. 

O,  Tredick,  it  is  done  and  over  with  now !  We  are 
in  shining  armor,  on  the  fields  of  Lorraine ;  the  banners 
of  our  legions  flutter  in  the  breezes  that  blow  across 
the  Moselle;  we  are  in  Flanders,  on  the  Meuse,  and 
behind  the  earth  ramparts  and  in  the  burrows  of  Ver 
dun.  We  look  back  on  all  that  to  laugh.  It  is  all 
over  now.  But  then  —  it  was : 

Will  he  keep  us  out  of  war?  Have  we  really  any 
right  on  the  high  seas?  Even  if  we  have,  have  we  any 
right  to  exercise  that  right  ?  We  mustn't  get  dragged 
into  this  war.  War  is  a  terrible  thing.  Thank  God 
we  are  not  in  it.  Prudence  Perkins  did  not  raise  her 
boy  to  be  a  soldier.  ( Prudence  has  never  had  any  chil 
dren  ;  has  never  been  married  ?  That's  so ;  well,  then, 
Mrs.  Alec  Walker  did  not  raise  her  boy  to  be  a  soldier. 
What's  that?  Oh,  yes,  that's  right,  come  to  think  of 
it;  young  Walker  drank  himself  to  death.  But  hansf 
it,  you  can't  deny  the  principle  is  right.)  Let  them 
fight  it  out  in  Europe.  What  has  Tredick  to  do  with 
Europe?  .  . 

At  night,  Tom  Gilstar  patrolled  the  village  limits  of 
Tredick.  The  job  was  not  so  bad,  when  he  got  to  it. 
It  was  no  trouble  at  all  to  put  Tobe  Willis  in  the  cooler. 
Often  he  shouldered  the  little  drunken  man  and  toted 
him  like  a  child.  He  tried  all  the  doors  of  the  busi 
ness  places  to  see  if  they  were  locked ;  and  it  gave  Tom 
Gilstar  a  peculiar,  pleasant  sense  of  power  to  know 
that  he  had  keys  that  would  open  almost  any  house  in 
the  village. 

After  midnight,  everything  usually  was  very  quiet. 
Only  a  few  lights  burned.  He  went  down  the  street 


KHAKI  21 

where  Matt  Pillicy  lived,  nearly  every  night,  and  stood 
for  a  while,  with  a  clutch  at  his  heart,  looking  up  at 
the  dark  outlines  of  the  house.  He  wondered  whether 
'Tony  was  sound  asleep;  or  whether  she  perhaps  had 
waked  a  little,  and  was  thinking  —  about  things.  He 
often  wondered,  as  he  looked  up  into  silent  second- 
floors  of  houses,  what  people  in  there  were  dreaming 
about.  Or  whether  they  did  as  he  used  to  do  (queerly 
enough  he  slept  better  now,  in  the  daytime) —  lie  awake 
with  dismal  pictures  of  the  War  hurrying  through  his 
head. 

He  who  walks  at  night  learns  many  things  about  the 
night ;  and  so  did  Tom  Gilstar ;  and  he  learned  many 
things  about  Tredick,  too;  and  yet  there  was  much 
that  he  did  not  learn. 

How  could  Tom  Gilstar  know  that  when  he  made 
his  rounds,  and  thought  that  he  was  looking  upon 
Tredick  asleep,  that  he  was  really  looking  upon  a  Tre 
dick  waking  from  a  long  sleep ;  upon  a  Tredick  stir 
ring  uneasily,  rubbing  its  eyes  after  a  long  sleep  —  of 
twenty,  thirty,  forty  years?  Yes,  forty  years  at  least, 
Tredick  had  been  asleep,  going  about  its  business  to  be 
sure,  but  only  half  awake,  because  it  had  forgotten  that 
Tredick  was  still  a  part  of  the  World. 

Nothing  ever  happened  in  Tredick,  said  Deacon 
Bradshaw.  But  something  was  happening  in  Tredick 
now.  Tredick  was  not  sleeping  soundly  any  more. 
Tredick  was  lying  awake,  in  doubt,  in  fear,  i  .  hope,  in 
prayer,  hoping  that  the  thing  would  not  come  to 
Tredick. 

"  War  is  a  terrible  thing,"  said  Tredick,  and  turned 
over,  vainly  hoping  that  the  old  sleep  would  come. 

"  He  will  keep  us  out  of  the  war,"  said  Tredick,  and 
turned  over  restlessly  again. 

"  We  don't  want  to  go  to  war,"  said  Tredick,  get- 


22  KHAKI 

ting  up  and  lighting  the  lamp,  and  looking  at  the  clock, 
and  being  amazed  to  find  that  it  was  only  one  o'clock, 
when  it  seemed  certainly  five. 

And  all  the  time,  grimly  and  surely,  with  a  slow 
progress  that  not  all  the  prayers  and  hopes  and  doubts 
of  Tredick  could  stay,  the  Thing  was  making  its  way  to 
Tredick  —  the  War  was  coming  over  those  hills  and 
down  into  the  valley  wherein  nestled  Tredick,  Tredick 
of  the  sleepy  eye. 

Tredick  had  elected  a  constable,  to  watch  over  it  at 
night  —  a  constable  who  admitted,  at  least  to  himself, 
that  he  was  a  coward.  Secure,  then,  in  its  belief  that 
nothing  would  ever  happen  in  Tredick,  Tredick  tried 
to  sleep.  Probably  Tredick  felt  sure  that  nothing 
really  was  happening  in  Tredick. 

Now  that  it  is  all  over  —  that  period  of  doubt  and 
fear,  that  period  of  hiding  one's  head  in  the  sand  and 
declaring  that  one  was  w _11  hid;  that  period  of  declar 
ing  peace  when  no  Peace  existed  any  longer  in  the 
world  —  Tredick  knows  what  was  keeping  it  awake. 
It  was  merely  trying  to  accommodate  itself  to  some 
very  old  truths  —  trying  to  ignore  them,  first,  and 
then,  failing  in  that,  to  adjust  itself  to  them  —  some 
very  old  truths  learned  by  Tredick's  ancestors  who  had 
forged,  by  blood  and  muscle,  a  new  freedom  in  the 
world.  And  the  truths  were  these : 

That  there  is  something  worse  than  pain,  and  that  is, 
the  fear  of  pain; 

That  there  is  something  worse  than  grief,  and  that  is, 
never  to  have  known  the  awakening,  unfolding  experi 
ence  of  grief; 

That  there  is  something  worse  than  war,  and  that  is, 
peace  without  honor; 

That  there  is  something  far  worse  than  the  death  of 
the  body,  and  that  is,  the  slow,  cancerous,  dry-rot  of 
the  soul. 


Ill 

PRUDENCE  PERKINS  went  over  to  Deacon  Brad- 
shaw's  for  supper,  as  she  had  promised.  The  deacon 
was  all  deference,  all  solicitude  for  her  comfort  He 
was  afraid  Prudence  was  not  eating  enough.  He  was 
afraid  the  chair  she  sat  in  was  not  the  softest  chair. 
Prudence  eyed  the  deacon  with  a  cynical  eye,  and 
waited.  She  knew  Charles  Bradshaw,  and  she  knew 
that  he  had  something  on  his  mind. 

Meanwhile,  Alice  Bradshaw,  quick,  witty,  blooming 
with  the  full  health  of  the  out-of-doors  soul  which  she 
was,  bronze-gold  of  hair,  clear  hazel  of  eye,  sat  serving 
and  eating  the  excellent  food  she  had  cooked  with  her 
own  hands,  and  said  nothing  at  all.  Once  in  a  while 
she  cast  a  humorous  glance  at  her  father,  when  he  was 
particularly  attentive  to  Miss  Perkins'  welfare.  To 
the  clear,  straight-minded  young  woman,  the  deacon 
was  as  transparent  as  the  window-glass.  She  laughed 
at  him  inwardly,  and  loved  him  a  good  deal. 

Toward  Prudence,  the  girl  was  frank,  courteous, 
modest,  and  not  at  all  solicitous.  And  so  Prudence 
liked  her  tremendously.  The  two  women,  one  of  them 
old  and  the  other  young,  and  both  shrewd  in  their 
years,  enjoyed  the  spectacle  of  a  wealthy  cast-iron 
deacon  flattering  a  bessemer-steel  spinster,  because  he 
wanted  advice  from  her,  in  business. 

"  War  is  a  terrible  thing,  Prudence,"  began  the 
deacon,  with  a  manufactured  groan,  as  they  sat  away 
from  the  table  a  little.  "  But,  thank  the  Lord,  our 
country  is  not  in  it." 

"  I  wouldn't  thank  the  Lord  too  soon,  Charles,"  was 
the  crisp  response. 

23 


24  KHAKI 

"  Why,  you  don't  think  it's  possible  we  could  - 
began  the  deacon,  with  genuine  anxiety. 

"I  think  anything  is  possible,  since  they  passed  the 
income-tax  law,"  replied  the  business-lady  of  Tredick. 

The  deacon  shifted  his  chair  a  trifle  nearer  Miss 
Perkins.  "  Now,  er,  that  you  have  mentioned  that,  er, 
matter  of  the  income  tax,  Prudence,"  he  said,  thought 
fully,  "er- 

"  You  want  to  know  if  I'm  going  to  dodge  it?     No." 

"  Sakes  alive,  you  have  a  blunt  way  of  putting 
things,  Prudence,"  remonstrated  the  good  man.  "  I 
merely  wanted  to  know  - 

"  Please  don't  be  a  faker,  Charles.  I  know  what 
you've  been  thinking  of.  I've  always  dodged  taxes, 
same  as  you  have.  They're  fixing  it,  gradually,  so 
we  can't  dodge.  I'm  not  going  to  wait  till  they 
threaten  me  with  jail.  I'm  going  to  pay  up  —  and 
then  claim  I'm  a  patriot." 

"  It'll  cost  you  a  pretty  penny,"  said  the  deacon, 
mournfully,  thinking  of  the  pretty  penny  it  would  cost 
him. 

"  I've  got  a  pretty  penny,"  was  the  retort.  "  So 
have  you.  Pay  up,  Charles.  It'll  hurt  for  a  minute, 
but  you'll  feel  better  for  it  afterwards." 

The  deacon  shook  his  head,  sadly. 

"  There  was  another  thing,  a  rather  important  thing, 
Prudence,  I  wanted  to  ask  your  advice  on."  The 
deacon  looked  at  his  daughter.  Then  he  went  on,  ex 
plaining  to  Prudence,  "  you  know  I  always  speak  of 
these  things  before  Alice.  Alice  has  a  wise  head. 
She  knows  all  about  my  business." 

"  I  think  if  you're  going  to  ask  advice,  father,  you 
ought  to  pay  for  it,"  said  Alice,  with  humor  only  ap 
parent  in  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,  Charles,"  said  Prudence,  with 


KHAKI  25 

a  grim  smile.     "  I'll  tell  you  what  I  think,  without 
charge.     What  is  it?  " 

"  Well,  you  know  the  executors  are  going  to  sell  the 
Williams  Dry-Goods  Store  to-morrow.  I  —  if  it  went 
at  a  reasonable  figure  —  I  might  —  it's  a  fairly  good 
property  —  there's  very  little  competition  —  I've  got 
some  one  in  mind  that  could  take  charge  of  it  —  well, 
1  might  invest  a  little  in  it.  Er  —  I  wanted  to  ask  you 
—  what  would  you  do  ?  " 

The  deacon  looked  up  at  Prudence  searchingly,  try 
ing  to  read  her  emotions.  If  Prudence  had  any  emo 
tions,  her  face  did  not  reveal  them.  In  her  eyes  there 
was  just  the  faintest  indication  of  a  tinge  of  malice  — 
just  a  shade  of  evidence  that  she  was  tired  of  having 
the  deacon,  whom  she  had  soundly  thrashed  in  several 
business  deals,  pulling  at  her  skirts  for  counsel.  The 
deacon  seemed  to  have  been  doing  this  more  than  usual, 
lately.  It  was  as  though  he  had  begun  to  distrust  his 
own  judgment,  and  yearned  to  lean  on  that  wiry, 
downright  business  arm  opposite  him. 

Without  a  moment's  hesitation,  Miss  Perkins  said, 
shortly,  "  If  I  followed  my  impulse,  I'd  probably  do 
it." 

The  deacon  sat  back,  with  a  just-audible  sigh. 
"  Hum  !  "  he  said.  "  Hum !  "  Then  he  shut  his  eyes, 
and  twiddled  his  thumbs  a  moment,  as  his  hands  lay 
across  his  shirtfront.  Then  he  said,  "  Thankye,  Pru 
dence." 

A  new  idea  seemed  to  strike  the  deacon.  "  The 
good-will  is  the  main  part  of  the  investment,"  he  said. 
"  You  don't  suppose  there's  a  chance  of  another  dry- 
goods  store  starting  up?  " 

"  Nobody  has  spoken  to  me  of  one,"  replied  Pru 
dence. 

"Hum!     Thankye." 


26  KHAKI 

The  deacon  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  satisfied.  The 
supper  had  been  paid  for.  Mr.  Bradshaw  permitted 
himself  to  become  expansive.  "  Well,"  he  said,  "  Tom 
Gilstar's  got  a  good  job,  Prudence,  and  I  guess  the 
town's  got  a  good  constable." 

"  Maybe,"  said  Prudence,  without  enthusiasm. 

"  I  wanted  to  see  Tom  get  the  place.  Tom  is  a  good 
boy.  I  like  any  boy  that  is  good  to  his  mother,  and 
minds  his  p's  and  q's."  The  deacon  glanced  at  his 
daughter.  Then  he  continued,  "  It's  a  pity  your  sis 
ter's  other  boy  turned  out  the  way  he  did." 

It  was  not  well  for  Deacon  Bradshaw  that  he  failed 
to  perceive  the  sparks  that  flashed  from  the  anvil-eyes 
of  the  spinster.  The  deacon  was  celebrating  himself, 
after  a  good  supper,  and  perceived  nothing  but  his  own 
present  satisfaction.  But  he  sat  up  a  little  straighter 
when  Prudence  snapped : 

"You  mean  Sheridan  Gilstar!  I  don't  agree  with 
you.  How  do  you  know  how  he  turned  out  ?  " 

"  Well,  he  hasn't  been  heard  of  in  a  couple  years, 
and  when  people  don't  let  you  hear  from  them,  it's 
usually  because  there's  nothing  good  to  hear,"  clucked 
the  deacon. 

The  tall  Prudence  rose  from  her  chair,  as  if  she 
felt  that  she  could  say  what  she  had  to  say  better  if  she 
were  standing.  She  reached  a  thin,  knotty  hand  to 
ward  the  deacon,  and  her  voice  quavered  with  an 
emotion  that  few  people  ever  saw  in  her,  "  Now 
Charles,"  she  said,  biting  the  words  off  sharply,  "  I've 
heard  you  casting  slurs  on  Sherry  Gilstar  a  good  many 
times,  before  and  since  he  left  Tredick ;  and  I've  held 
my  peace.  You  ran  Sherry  Gilstar  out  of  this 
town  - 

Charles  Bradshaw  held  up  a  hand  and  started  to 
deny. 

"  Oh,  I  know  you  didn't  tell  him  to  go,  in  so  many 


KHAKI  27 

words !  But  you  gave  him  to  understand  that  you 
were  going  to  make  it  hot  for  him,  if  he  stayed.  Be 
cause  he  and  a  couple  other  young  colts,  who  had  too 
much  energy,  took  your  buggy  and  mare  from  in  front 
of  the  postoffice,  and  went  for  a  joy-ride,  and  got 
smashed  up,  and  because  once  in  a  while  Sherry  got 
into  some  other  boyish  deviltry  that  didn't  hurt  any 
body  much,  you  made  up  your  mind  that  he  couldn't 
stay  here  any  longer  —  and  you  had  your  way.  Now, 
Charles  Hradshaw,  I'm  going  to  tell  you  something. 
I've  been  thinking  a  good  deal  about  things,  these  last 
two  or  three  years  —  and  not  about  making  money, 
either.  This  war  ought  to  make  everybody  think,  if 
they've  got  anything  to  think  with.  And  I've  about 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  when  Sherry  Gilstar  left 
Tredick,  about  the  only  real,  live,  red-blooded  man  in 
the  place  left." 

Up  to  this  moment  Alice  Bradshaw  has  been  almost 
a  silent  participant  in  the  festivities.  She  had  been, 
for  the  most  part,  sitting  quietly,  with  eyes  that  showed 
something  of  boredom,  something  of  being  ashamed 
of  her  father's  clumsy  business-and-social  efforts,  and 
something  of  amusement.  Now,  as  Prudence  spoke, 
the  young  woman's  face  glowed  with  interest.  The 
look  in  her  eyes  changed  to  one  of  gratitude  —  it  could 
have  been  nothing  else  —  and  she  leaned  forward  to 
catch  every  word. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  Miss  Perkins  went  on,  shaking  a  lean 
forefinger,  "  you  and  I,  and  the  rest  of  them,  who-have 
had  our  eyes  on  our  own  little  games,  to  get  a  dollar, 
or  avoid  discomfort,  or  what  not,  have  been  slowly 
taking  all  the  manhood  and  womanhood  out  of  Tred 
ick.  First  it's  been  one  thing,  and  then  another. 
The  children  mustn't  make  any  noise  on  the  Fourth  of 
July.  No;  gather  the  dear  little  things  together  and 
let  them  listen  for  two  hours  to  that  windbag  George 


28  KHAKI 

Watling  Wenham,  up  at  the  Academy,  while  he  tells 
them  how  to  be  little  Lord  Fauntleroys,  and  say  hur 
rah  with  their  handkerchiefs.  When  you  and  I  went 
to  school,  Charles  Bradshaw,  there  were  still  men 
school  teachers ;  and  the  boys  tried  to  lick  the  teacher, 
and  the  teacher  usually  licked  them,  or  lost  his  job, 
and  after  he  gave  them  a  thrashing  that  they  remem 
bered  all  their  lives,  they'd  have  followed  him  to  the 
end  of  the  world,  and  beyond.  The  first  licking  you 
ever  got,  Charles,  I  remember  —  because  I  was  so 
tickled  I  didn't  know  what  to  do  —  and  it  was  for  kick 
ing  the  teacher  in  the  shins.  You  had  a  little  sand 
then,  anyway.  Now,  if  one  of  the  boys  throws  a  spit- 
ball  at  the  teacher,  you  have  him  up  before  the  board 
and  want  to  send  him  to  the  reform  school.  Little  by 
little  we've  been  taking  all  the  nerve,  all  the  jump  and 
go,  out  of  everybody,  until  now  you  can  go  from  one 
end  of  the  village  to  the  other  without  finding  a  man 
who  would  dare  say  boo  to  a  grasshopper.  Poor 
Sherry  Gilstar!  He  was  born  in  the  wrong  place. 
He  ought  to  have  been  a  Frenchman,  or  an  English 
man.  Oh,  I  wish  I  were  a  man!  I'd  show  them!  " 

"  Now,  Prudence—  "  gasped  the  deacon. 

"  Don't  Prudence  me,  Charles.  You're  going  to 
point  out  what  a  model  town  Tredick  is,  and  how  no 
body  ever  gets  into  trouble,  and  all  that.  I  know  it. 
I've  been  pointing  that  out  to  everybody  —  up  to  a 
few  years  ago.  Now,  I  don't  know  whether  I'm 
proud  of  it  or  not.  A  box  with  nothing  in  it  doesn't 
rattle  —  and  a  dead  dog  doesn't  bark  —  but  I  don't 
know  as  either  of  them  is  anything  to  be  proud  of. 
This  war  —  somehow  it  makes  some  things  clearer  to 
me  —  I'm  muddled,  all  muddled  over  it,  of  course  — 
and  yet  it  makes  me  see  some  things  clearer. —  I'm  get 
ting  excited. —  I  guess  I'd  better  stop. —  But  I  don't 
want  to  hear  any  more  slurs  about  Sherry  Gilstar.  If 


KHAKI  29 

he  has  gone  to  the  dogs,  it  was  because  we  never  gave 
him  a  chance  to  go  anywhere  else." 

The  deacon  was  plainly  puzzled  by  the  tirade.  He 
said,  weakly,  "  Well,  now,  Prudence,  you  wouldn't 
compare  Sheridan  Gilstar  with  his  brother  Tom?  " 

"  Wouldn't  compare  them  ?  Indeed  I  wouldn't  com 
pare  them !  Don't  think  that  I  don't  like  Tom  —  he's 
a  nice  boy,  and  all  that  —  but  —  oh,  Sherry  was  a 
man !  —  there  was  something  about  him,  something  big 
and  generous  and  strong  inside  —  he'd  fight  at  the 
drop  of  a  hat,  I  know  —  but  he  never  bullied  a  boy 
who  wasn't  his  size,  and  I  never  knew  him  to  take  a 
mean  advantage  of  anybody.  Don't  you  remember 
the  time  he  shinned  up  the  pole  on  top  of  the  town  hall 
and  hung  —  er-a  —  a  lady's  undergarment  up  there, 
Charles  ?  It  wasn't  a  bright  thing  to  do,  I  know  that 
-  but  the  point  is,  what  boy  in  this  town  to-day  would 
shin  that  pole  ?  It  took  nerve  —  and  Sherry  had  it. 
-  The  time  may  come,  Charles,  in  this  country,  when 
we'll  feel  a  heap  safer  with  the  Sherry  Gilstars  to  pro 
tect  us  and  our  property,  than  with  the  Tom  Gilstars." 

The  deacon  smiled  in  toleration  of  this  exaggeration. 
"  Pshaw!  Nothing  ever  happens  in  Tredick,"  he  said. 

"  No,  nothing  ever  happens  in  Tredick."  repeated 
Prudence,  drily. 

"  I  guess,  when  it  comes  to  that,  you  don't  want 
young  rascals  overturning  your  property  and  stealing 
your  horse  and  buggy,  and  raising  Cain  generally," 
persisted  the  deacon,  as  a  clincher. 

Miss  Prudence  Perkins,  before  she  replied,  took  up 
her  shawl,  planted  her  hat  firmly  on  her  head,  ran  two 
hatpins  through  it  as  though  she  were  impaling  Tred 
ick,  and  went  to  the  door.  There  she  turned  and  said 
her  last  word. 

"If  you  had -had  as  much  sand  as  Sherry  Gilstar 
when  you  were  his  age  —  the  age  he  left  Tredick  — 


30  KHAKI 

I'd  have  probably  been  working  for  you  now,  for  my 
board  and  clothes,"  said  Prudence,  with  a  grin. 
"  Good-night,  Charles." 

A  red  flush  flowed  over  the  deacon's  face,  and  he 
went  back  into  his  chair  limply,  with  a  gurgled  "  Good 
night."  It  was  a  Parthian  shot  —  straight  to  the 
bull's-eye.  For,  when  the  late  Mrs.  Bradshaw  had  been 
alive,  the  deacon  had  been  notoriously  stingy  with  her. 
Some  folks  said  that  this  was  the  reason  why  Alice, 
in  these  days,  had  everything  she  wanted  —  because  the 
deacon  had  been  stricken  with  remorse.  At  any  rate, 
it  rolled  the  deacon  flat,  and  he  didn't  even  hear  his 
daughter  follow  Miss  Perkins  out  the  door. 

Prudence  turned,  at  the  gate,  when  she  heard  Alice 
coming.  "  I  want  to  walk  home  with  you,  Miss  Per 
kins,"  said  the  girl. 

"  I  do  hope,"  said  Alice,  "  that  my  father  doesn't 
annoy  you  too  much.  Really,  he  means  well,  but  he's 
got  it  into  his  head  lately  that  you  know  ever  so  much 
more  about  investments  than  he  does  —  he  isn't  sure  of 
himself  these  days." 

"  My  dear,"  replied  Prudence,  taking  the  girl's  arm, 
"  you  can't  tell  me  anything  about  your  father.  We 
went  to  school  together.  I  like  him  well  enough  to 
quarrel  with  him  —  and  to  beat  him  at  a  trade,  if  I 
can. —  But  you  had  something  else  you  wanted  to 
say?" 

The  wing  which  the  spinster  held,  fluttered. 

"  Yes,  I  had,"  said  the  younger  woman,  in  a  trem 
bling  voice.  "I  —  I  wanted  to  thank  you  —  at  least 
I  wanted  to  say  —  that  —  it  was  nice  of  you  to  take 
Sherry  Gilstar's  part.  I  never  dare  to  say  anything 
at  all  when  father  talks  about  him.  I  can  manage  dad 
on  most  subjects,  but  not  when  he  gets  on  that  one. 
He's  very  much  against  Sherry.  So  —  I  wanted 
to—" 


KHAKI  31 

Miss  Perkins  halted,  faced  the  girl,  and  took  her 
by  both  arms,  and  looked  into  her  face,  even  though 
it  was  dark. 

"  You  liked  him,  didn't  you  ?  "  she  said,  in  what  was 
for  her  a  gentle  tone. 

There  was  no  reply.  "  I  knew  you  did,  dear,"  Pru 
dence  went  on.  "  I  never  said  a  word  about  it  to 
anybody.  Perhaps,  Alice,  we'll  see  him  again  one  of 
these  days.  Now,  don't  take  on  like  that.  You'll 
have  me  doing  it,  too,  and  I'm  too  old  for  that  sort 
of  nonsense." 

"  You've  never  heard  of  him  —  since  ?  "  faltered 
the  girl,  after  a  time. 

"  Not  since  the  day  before  he  was  discharged  from 
the  army,  in  the  Philippines.  Nobody  has.  I  —  I 
don't  know  what  to  think.  But  I  have  a  feeling  that 
we're  going  to  see  Master  Sherry  again." 

"  Good  night,"  said  Alice.  "  Somehow,  I  feel  —  a 
little  bit  —  happy." 

"  Good  night,"  replied  Prudence.  "  Somehow,  you 
know,  I  do  too. —  We're  a  couple  of  geese." 


IV 

THAT  night,  about  twenty  minutes  past  twelve,  when 
the  up-train  stopped  at  the  Tredick  station,  Tom  Gil- 
star  was  on  the  station  platform.  It  was  part  of  his 
duty  to  meet  that  train,  and  inspect  those  who  might 
get  off. 

The  usual  two  or  three  traveling  men  alighted  sleep 
ily,  threw  their  grips  into  the  waiting  hotel  'bus,  and 
climbed  after  them.  Two  railway  employees,  who 
lived  in  Tredick,  passed  Tom  and  greeted  him  cheerily. 
That  seemed  to  be  the  full  list;  but,  as  the  train  started 
up  again,  Tom  saw  two  figures  drop  from  the  last 
coach,  some  hundred-odd  feet  beyond  the  station  plat 
form.  He  waited  for  them,  expecting  them  to  ap 
proach  the  station  along  the  plank  walk.  Instead, 
they  went  across  the  road-bed  at  right  angles  to  the 
track  and  disappeared  in  the  darkness  of  a  clump  of 
trees. 

For  a  few  moments,  Tom  Gilstar  stood  there  looking 
in  the  direction  the  two  figures  had  gone.  The  'bus 
rattled  away.  It  was  very  quiet.  Tom  could  hear 
the  thumping  of  his  own  heart.  He  walked  a  few 
steps  down  the  platform,  and  then  stopped  irresolutely. 
He  wondered  whether  he  ought  to  follow  after  the 
strangers,  if  they  were  strangers.  There  was  no 
road  at  the  place  they  had  entered  the  woods,  and  to 
attempt  to  go  around  and  head  them  off,  seemed  futile. 
It  was  the  first  suspicious  incident  since  Tom  had  be 
come  constable  of  Tredick,  and  the  sense  of  duty  in 
him  was  quarreling  with  his  strong  desire  to  go  back 
"  down  town  "  and  let  the  matter  drop. 

32 


KHAKI  33 

"  It  might  be  a  couple  of  tramps  who  were  told  to 
drop  off  here,"  the  big  fellow  told  himself.  "  Likely 
they'll  wait  for  the  first  through  freight,  and  catch 
on."  It  looked  like  a  reasonable  explanation,  and  it 
afforded  Tom  a  vast  relief.  He  stood  for  a  few  mo 
ments  under  the  electric  lamp  on  the  station  platform, 
listening;  and  hearing  nothing,  went  slowly  back  to 
the  center. 

At  the  edge  of  the  woods,  however,  two  pairs  of  eyes 
were  fixed  on  Tom  Gilstar,  as  he  was  shown  in  half- 
silhouette  under  the  light.  One  of  the  men  who  had 
dropped  from  the  train  said,  after  a  pause,  "  That  looks 
too  big  to  be  Fiske !  The  cop  they  used  to  have  here, 
Hop,  was  a  little  guy,  with  whiskers  the  color  of  canned 
salmon.  He  was  full  of  pep,  though.  They  must 
have  a  new  one." 

"  Well,  what  are  you  going  to  do?  Stand  here  all 
night  ?  "  said  the  other  man. 

"  I  was  just  wondering,  Hop,"  was  the  reply.  "  I 
don't  want  to  slide  into  town  at  this  time  of  night. 
You  know  we're  just  here  on  a  gamble,  and  I  don't 
want  too  many  to  get  hep.  I've  got  reasons." 

"Well,  this  is  a  hell  of  a  note,  Gillie!"  growled 
the  second  voice.  "  When  we  left  New  York,  you  was 
talking  like  you  was  going  right  in  and  introduce  us 
to  the  mayor,  and  they  was  going  to  set  us  up  a  ban 
quet,  and  do  that  fat  calf  stuff,  and  give  a  few  weeps 
onto  your  necktie.  Now,  when  we  get  in  this  dump, 
your  feet  get  all  frostbite,  and  you  want  to  lean  against 
the  trees  all  night.  Say,  kid,  this  is  bum  comedy,  be 
lieve  me." 

There  was  a  soft,  good  natured,  really  musical  laugh. 
"  The  bull  has  taken  a  sneak,  Hop,"  came  the  answer, 
as  the  figure  of  Tom  Gilstar  disappeared.  "  Don't 
get  sore,  Hop.  I  have  a  little  cold  feet,  that's  a  bet. 
The  nearer  I  got  to  this  burg,  the  chillier  it  seemed. 


34  KHAKI 

If  things  looked  as  good  and  easy,  close-up,  as  they 
do  from  a  distance,  it  would  be  a  cinch  to  walk  in  and 
ask  J.  Pierp  Morgan  for  a  million  dollars.  You  know 
that.  Now,  listen,  kid-o!  It's  half-past  twelve. 
Now  this  isn't  Broadway,  Hop.  The  hour  is  so  late 
in  this  burg,  that  you  might  almost  say  it  was  the  day 
after  the  night  before.  Why,  there's  folks  here,  bo, 
that  make  the  sun  feel  like  a  piker,  the  minute  he  shows 
his  head.  They've  done  a  day's  work  by  breakfast 
time,  and  then  kick  because  time  passes  so  quick  they 
can't  accomplish  anything." 

"  And  you  want  to  come  back  here  to  live !  "  was 
the  answering  groan. 

"  Well,  Hop,  old  boy,  it  isn't  so  bad,  after  all.  Yes, 
I'd  like  to  come  back.  You'll  like  it,  after  you  get 
used  to  it,  too." 

"  I  wouldn't  live  that  long,  Gillie. —  Look !  Lamp 
that  black-and-white  cat  walking  along  the  track! 
Honest,  Gillie,  I'm  so  lonesome,  I've  got  a  mind  to 
adopt  that  cat.  Here,  kitty,  kitty !  " 

A  restraining  arm  seized  the  prospective  cat-adopter. 
"  Leave  it  alone,  Gillie!  You  don't  want  to  adopt  that 
cat !  That's  a  skunk.  Wait  a  minute  and  you'll  get 
a  whiff.  I  can  get  you  a  louder  whiff  of  perfumery  by 
heaving  a  brick  at  the  little  kitty.  But  I  guess  you'll 
be  satisfied  with  what  you  get." 

In  a  moment  Hop  was  satisfied.  "  Let's  go,  Gil 
lie!  "  he  said.  "  When's  the  first  train  back  to  New 
York  ?  Whew,  I'd  rather  stand  outside  the  back  door 
of  a  Greek  restaurant!  " 

Gillie  snickered.  Then  his  voice  became  serious. 
"  Now,  look,  Hop,"  he  said.  "  I'm  going  to  ask  you 
to  go  easy  on  me,  just  this  time.  I'd  like  to  shoot  you 
down  to  the  hotel,  and  buy  you  a  soft  bed.  But  I  want 
to  keep  shady  a  while.  We've  been  good  pals  together, 
and  put  up  with  worse  stuff  than  this.  We're  going 


KHAKI  35 

to  beat  it  now  for  a  lumberman's  shanty  —  if  it's  still 
there,  and  I  suppose  it  is.  There  are  a  couple  bunks 
in  it,  and  we  can  sit  down  under  cover,  anyway.  To 
morrow  is  my  big  day,  Hop;  you've  got  to  help  me. 
Now  don't  get  sore,  will  you?" 

Hop  answered  with  a  grunt  that  was  an  affirmation 
to  anything,  anyhow.  "  Lead  on!  "  he  replied.  "  I'm 
game.  I've  worn  a  hole  in  the  bark  of  this  tree  with 
the  small  of  my  back." 

They  went  over  to  the  station,  then  to  the  road  that 
ran  diagonally  from  it,  along  this  road  several  hun 
dred  yards,  then  into  the  woods  by  a  foot  path.  The 
leader  went  along  with  the  precision  of  a  good  woods 
man  who  also  knows  the  country  he  travels.  The 
campfollower  stumbled  along,  without  missing  a  single 
root  that  projected  above  the  ground,  or  a  single  em 
bracing  branch  which  hung  down  from  the  trees. 
Once  in  a  while  the  leader  heard  a  heartfelt  "F'  Gawd- 
sake!"  from  his  follower,  and  chuckled  softly.  Fin 
ally  they  stopped. 

"  Here  we  are,  Hop!  "  said  Gillie.  "  Got  a  match? 
Never  mind,  I've  got  my  flash.  I  forgot  I  had  it." 

He  snapped  on  an  electric  hand-lamp,  which  flooded 
the  hut,  into  which  they  had  passed,  with  a  blinding 
brilliance.  It  was  a  shanty  with  two  bunks  on  one 
side,  a  small  stove,  a  table,  and  a  chair  with  two  legs 
intact  leaning  against  the  wall. 

"  The  Waldorf-Astoria !  "  exclaimed  Hop.  "  Push 
the  button,  Gillie,  and  order  up  a  couple  of  drinks." 

"  I'm  done  with  drinks,  even  in  my  imagination," 
was  the  reply,  with  unexpected  soberness.  "  But  I 
could  use  a  club  sandwich." 

"  Why  couldn't  we  have  a  little  fire  in  that  stove?  " 
asked  Hop.  "  It's  colder  than  it  was." 

"  You're  up  a  thousand  feet  higher  than  you  were. 
Sure  we  can  have  a  fire.  I'll  get  some  wood.  And, 


36  KHAKI 

yes!  There's  a  lantern.  Maybe  it's  got  oil  in  it.  It 
has  —  a  little." 

"  Don't  leave  me  here  too  long,"  said  Hop.  "  I  got 
plenty  of  nerve,  most  times,  but  this  voyage  has  got  my 
goat.  I  don't  know  where  I  am  any  more  than  a 
baby." 

The  other  man  soon  came  back  with  an  armful  of 
dry  fagots,  and  started  a  fire.  With  the  lantern 
lighted,  they  both  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  lower  bunk, 
smoking. 

"  Now,  look,  Hop,"  began  the  leader,  "  this  lantern 
won't  last  long,  and  I  want  to  look  you  in  the  eye  when 
I  tell  you  a  few  things.  First  of  all,  I  want  to  tell  you 
that  you're  a  real  pal,  to  follow  my  tracks  like  this. 
Oh,  yes,  you  are:  I  mean  it.  When  I  first  asked  you, 
didn't  think  you'd  fall  for  this  straight-and-narrow- 
path  stuff.  Well,  Hop,  we're  here!  And  I'm  stronger 
than  ever  for  quitting  the  boys,  and  the  rough  stuff. 
We  may  make  our  living  a  heap  harder,  Hop,  but  I 
think  we'll  be  better  satisfied." 

"  I  think  you're  dreaming  through  your  nose,"  was 
the  reply.  "  But  I  can  be  shown." 

"  Well,  look  here,"  said  Gillie,  who,  the  lantern- 
light  showed,  was  a  medium-sized,  pale-faced,  black- 
haired  fellow,  certainly  less  than  twenty-five  years  old, 
and  with  dark  eyes  that  were  luminous  when  he  became 
enthusiastic.  Also,  when  he  stood,  his  back  squared 
off,  and  his  shoulders  were  thrown  well  to  the  rear,  and 
he  had  a  way  of  keeping  his  chin  well  tucked  in. 
"  Look  here,  Hop.  We've  been  going  crooked  for  a 
long  time  now  —  and  we've  fingered  quite  a  bunch  of 
dough,  altogether.  What  have  we  got  to  show  for  it  ? 
How  much  money  you  got?  " 

"  About  seven  dollars." 

"  I've  got  less  than  ten.  That's  one  reason  why  I 
think  we  can  do  better  on  the  straight.  Number  two 


KHAKI  37 

-  where's    Pug    Blaine  ?     Where's    Dicky    Wilson  ? 
Where's  Katy  Getz?  " 

"  All  doing  their  stretches,"  was  the  prompt  answer. 

"  Yes.  All  up  the  river. —  Number  three  —  I've  got 
tired  of  dodging  and  jumping  sideways  every  time  I 
see  a  bull  coming.  I'd  like  to  look  somebody  in  the 
eyes  now  and  then.  Oh,  I'm  sure  of  it,  Hop!  Be 
sides  — " 

Gillie  stopped,  and  considered  before  he  went  on. 
"  I  know  a  girl  here,  Hop.  I  never  said  anything 
about  her  — 

"  Huh !  You  didn't  have  to.  I  knew  there  was  a 
skirt  - 

"  Wait  a  minute,  Hop.  You  mean  all  right  when 
you  say  '  skirt,'  but  I  —  it  don't  sound  good.  This  is 
different,  Hop.  This  girl  —  well  —  I  -  God,  she 
may  be  married,  for  all  I  know !  Well,  but  even  if  she 
is,  and  she  should  meet  me,  I  bet  she'd  put  out  her  hand 
and  say,  with  that  old  pal  smile  of  hers  on  her  glori 
ous  face,  '  Hop,'  I  bet  she'd  say,  '  I'm  glad  to  see  you, 
Sherry  '- 

"  Sherry  ?     What's  that  —  another  monaker  ?  " 

The  other  man  stopped,  hesitated,  then  laughed. 
"  Hop,  I'll  tell  you  my  right  name  if  you'll  tell  me 
yours." 

"Mine  is  Murray  —  honest  to  God  Murray,  just 
like  that.  George  Murray." 

"  Well,  mine  is  Sheridan  Gilstar.     My  dad  fought 
under  Phil  Sheridan,  in  the  sixties,  and  a  long  time 
afterward,  when  I  was  born,  he  got  even  with  Phil 
by  naming  me  after  him.     Gee,  my  dad  must  have  been 
the  kind  of  a  man  to  carry  a  grudge  a  long  time.— 
Anyhow,  as  I  was  saying,  there  is  —  or  there  was,  may 
be —  the  girl.      She's  the  daughter  of  a   rich  old - 
well  I  mustn't  call  any  names,  now  —  but  he  chased  me 
out  of  here  —  you  get  me !     I  guess  I  was  a  pretty 


38  KHAKI 

rough  kid.  Perhaps  the  old  man  was  right.  Now, 
Hop,  I  want  to  see  that  girl  before  —  even  before  I  see 
my  mother. —  Hop,  you  don't  suppose  —  you  don't 
suppose  anybody  —  has  died  since  —  since  — 

"  Oh,  of  course  not.     Cheer  up!  "  said  Hop. 

"If  —  she's  here  —  I  want  to  see  her  first.  There's 
where  you  come  in.  I'm  going  to  give  you  a  note,  in 
the  morning,  and  I  want  you  to  take  it  to  her.  No 
body  knows  you  down  there.  She'll  know  —  whether 
I've  got  the  right  dope.  If  she  isn't  married  —  she'll 
see  me  —  I  know  she  will.  If  they  —  don't  want  me 
—  or  anything  —  why,  kid,  we'll  beat  it  back  to  Broad 
way." 

"  I'll  be  your  little  Cupid,"  snickered  Hop,  with  a 
grin. 

'  You  go  to  blazes,"  said  Sherry  Gilstar,  making  a 
good-natured  pass  at  his  companion.  "  Will  you  do 
it?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Now,  maybe  we  can  get  a  little  sleep,"  said  Sherry, 
with  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"  Where  —  on  those  ?  "  said  Hop,  pointing  to  the 
bare  boards. 

"Sure.     Why  not?" 

"  Well,"  said  Hop,  half  sourly,  half-humorously, 
"  you've  got  a  great  and  pining  love  to  sustain  your 
carcass,  bo.  But  there's  nothing  between  me  and  them 
planks." 


V< 

HOP  MURRAY  surprised  himself  by  going  to  sleep  - 
or  rather,  by  waking  up  to  discover  that  he  had  been 
asleep.     The  first  thing  that  greeted  his  drowsy  eyes 
was  the  figure  of  Sherry  Gilstar,  seated  on  a  wooden 
box  by  the  stove,  with  his  face  buried  in  his  hands. 

"  Hello,  Gillie !  —  I  mean  Sherry !  "  shouted  Hop. 
"Asleep?" 

"  No,  Hop,"  replied  Sherry.  "  Just  thinking.—  It's 
half-past  seven.  Here's  that  note  I  want  you  to  take 
down  to  —  the  girl.  I'll  take  you  out  as  far  as  the 
main  road,  and  then  you  can't  miss.  After  you  cross 
the  railroad  tracks,  turn  to  the  left  and  go  down  the 
hill.  You'll  pass  a  bakeshop,  where  you  can  stop  in 
and  get  breakfast.  Then  ask  somebody  where  Deacon 
Bradshaw  lives.  I'll  look  for  you  back  here  by  ten, 
anyway." 

"  Where  does  your  breakfast  come  in?  "  was  the  so 
licitous  reply. 

"  I  don't  feel  like  eating. —  Come  on." 

After  fifteen  minutes  of  quick  walking,  Hop  Murray 
crossed  the  railroad,  and  entered  what  Tredick  call  its 
"  center."  He  found  the  bakery,  ordered  a  double 
quantity  of  bacon  and  eggs,  and,  after  eating  raven 
ously,  sat  back  and  looked  out  the  window  at  the  town. 
What  he  saw  of  it  didn't  impress  him,  judging  from 
the  sardonic  grin  that  came  on  his  face.  "  I  should 
think  a  wise  guy  like  Sherry  would  be  glad  to  stick 
away  from  a  jasper  joint  like  this,"  he  remarked,  to 
himself. 

Meanwhile,  three  or  four  pairs  of  curious  eyes  were 
looking  the  stranger  over,  as  they  looked  all  strangers 

39 


40  KHAKI 

over.  What  they  saw  was  a  tall,  sparely  built  fellow, 
with  reddish-brown  hair  and  a  good  many  freckles,  a 
pair  of  the  most  innocent  kind  of  blue  eyes,  a  sharpish 
nose,  and  a  weak  chin.  The  cut  of  his  clothes,  and 
vague  something  about  his  manner,  indicated  that  he 
did  not  belong  in,  or,  anywhere  near,  Tredick.  From 
Garstand,  the  baker,  Hop  learned  how  to  get  to  the 
Bradshaw  house. 

"  But,"  said  Garstand,  "  if  you  want  to  see  the  Dea 
con,  you'll  probably  find  him  over  at  the  town  clerk's 
office.  I  just  saw  him  go  in  the  townhall." 

"  Thanks,"  said  Hop,  sagaciously.  "  Maybe  he'll 
be  over  there."  Then  he  walked  down  the  street 
thoughtfully,  and  was  soon  knocking  at  the  door  of  a 
big  square,  mansard-roofed  house  that  stood  well  back 
from  the  street,  surrounded  by  trees.  It  was  Alice 
Bradshaw  who  came  to  the  door.  "  Good  morning  ?  " 
she  replied,  questioningly,  to  Hop's  courteous  salute. 
For  reply,  he  handed  her  the  piece  of  folded,  torn  paper 
from  a  memorandum  book.  He  watched  her  face,  as 
she  read. 

The  girl  looked  first,  as  most  people  do,  at  the  signa 
ture.  Instantly  a  warm  flush  came  on  her  face,  suffus 
ing  even  her  neck.  She  gave  a  little  choke  ;  her  fingers 
tightened  perceptibly  on  the  paper,  and  she  read  avidly. 
Then,  for  several  seconds,  she  fixed  her  clear  eyes  on 
the  bearer  of  the  message. 

"  Is  he  really  —  here  ?  "  were  the  first  words  the 
young  woman  uttered. 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

"You  are  his  friend?" 

Hop  nodded,  feeling  somehow  very  uncomfort 
able. 

Alice  looked  at  the  stranger  again.  There  was  noth 
ing  of  suspicion  in  her  glance;  yet  something  of  a 
deeply  imbedded  native  prudence  made  her  look  at  the 


KHAKI  41 

note  once  more.  Then  she  said,  slowly  and  distinctly, 
though  her  hands  trembled  and  her  bosom  was  rising 
and  falling  sharply,  and  there  was  a  little  convulsive 
movement  of  her  lips : 

"I'll  —  yes.  If  you  will  wait  for  me  a  few  mo 
ments,  I'll  go  back  with  you." 

"  He  told  me  to  say  that  he'd  be  at  your  tree,"  said 
Hop. 

"  At  —  my  —  tree !  "  repeated  the  girl.  "  Yes  —  I 
know."  Her  eyes  closed  for  a  moment,  and  when  she 
opened  them,  the  lashes  were  moist.  "  Yes  —  I 
know." 

A  few  minutes  afterward,  they  left  the  house  and 
walked  rapidly  back  through  the  center.  It  was  Alice 
Bradshaw  who  set  the  pace.  Hop  kept  along  by  her 
side  rather  awkwardly,  and  silent.  Nor  did  she  speak. 
At  the  railroad  tracks,  Hop  stopped,  coughed  once  or 
twice,  and  pulled  off  his  hat. 

"  I  s'pose  you  know  what  he  meant  by  that  tree, 
miss,"  he  said.  "  And  maybe  you'd  just  as  soon  I'd 
quit  you  here." 

She  flashed  him  a  look  of  gratitude  for  the  little  deli 
cacy.  "  Yes,"  she  replied.  "  Thank  you.  But  I'll 
see  you  later,  won't  I  ?  " 

Hop  nodded,  and  turned  off  toward  the  railroad  sta 
tion,  and  the  girl  went  forward  alone,  with  eager  steps 
that  advertised  her  youth  and  her  love  of  the  open 
roads. 

There  was  a  big  oak  tree,  not  far  from  the  main 
road,  on  a  little  spur-trail  which  had  been  used  to  bring 
out  logs  and  lumber.  Under  that  tree  they  met.  She 
came  toward  him  with  a  little  cry  of  welcome,  hold 
ing  out  her  hand.  Sherry  Gilstar  held  out  his  hand, 
too,  but  he  approached  the  young  woman  timidly  and 
nervously.  For  a  half  a  minute  they  looked  each  other 
full  in  the  eyes. 


42  KHAKI 

"  I  knew  you'd  come  back  home,  sometime,  Sherry," 
she  said,  finally.  "  It's  good  to  see  you." 

"  It's  better  than  good  to  see  you,  Alice,"  he  replied. 
Then  he  added,  awkwardly,  "  You  must  have  won 
dered  why  I  had  the  cheek  to  ask  you  to  come  up  here. 
I  —  didn't  know  whether  you'd  come  or  not." 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  think  anything  about  what  was  proper, 
if  that's  what  you  mean,  Sherry,"  the  girl  laughed. 
"  I  wanted  to  see  you,  that's  all." 

He  shook  his  head,  and  looked  down  at  the  ground. 
"  That's  the  way  I  was  afraid  it  would  be,"  he  said. 
"  I  mean,  I  was  afraid  you'd  come." 

"Afraid  I'd  come  - 

"  Oh,  I  wanted  you  to.  But  now,  I  mean,  I  feel 
—  your  coming  right  away  to  see  me,  like  this  —  it 
makes  me  feel  — 

The  young  fellow  stopped.  He  straightened  up, 
threw  back  his  shoulders,  and  took  a  deep  breath. 

"  I've  got  a  load  on  my  mind,  and  1  might  as  well 
get  it  off  quick,"  he  said.  "  Besides,  it's  only  fair  to 
you,  Alice. —  I've  come  back  to  Tredick  to  —  stay  — 
and  try  it  over  again,  if  nobody  has  any  objection." 

"  To  stay,  Sherry!     Really!  "  she  cried,  joyously. 

"  Well,  yes;  if  I  could  make  a  go  of  it.  It  depends 
on  whether  the  folks  here  want  me  —  that's  the  size  of 
it." 

"  You  mean  my  father.  Oh,  I  know  you  can  make 
it  all  right  with  him  — 

"  Your  father  —  and  others,  too.  I  wanted  to  see 
you  first,  Alice,  and  tell  you  —  the  truth  —  that  I  —  I 
haven't  been  on  the  level  —  all  the  time  —  since  you 
haven't  heard  from  me  — 

"On  the  level?"  she  interrupted.  "You  don't 
mean  you've  done  anything  very  wrong,  Sherry?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have,  Alice ;  I  haven't  done  much  that  was 
right.  In  the  army  —  you  knew  I  was  in  the  Philip- 


KHAKI  43 

pines  —  I  was  all  right.  I've  got  an  honorable  dis 
charge  in  my  pocket.  I  landed  in  'Frisco,  off  the  trans 
port,  with  the  idea  of  coming  home.  I  —  something 
went  wrong  —  I  didn't  get  here.  I  lost  money  — 
gambling  —  and  —  there  didn't  seem  to  be  any  use  — 
and  I  met  up  with  a  crowd  —  well,  I  don't  want  to 
say  anything  more,  little  girl.  The  point  is,  I'm  all 
done  with  —  with  that,  if  I  can  get  another  start. — 
Oh,  don't  look  at  me  that  way,  Alice!  Please  —  you 
can  say  the  worst  things  you  know  how,  to  me  —  I 
can  stand  that  —  but  — 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  look  any  particular  way,  Sherry," 
she  said,  softly.  "  I  was  just  thinking  of  some  way 
to  tell  you  that  no  matter  what's  happened,  I'm  glad  to 
see  you,  and  it  will  be  all  right.  It  will  be  so  fine ! 
Your  mother  —  what  will  she  say,  Sherry,  when  she 
sees  you  ?  And  your  brother  —  did  you  know,  Sherry, 
that  Tom  is  our  constable  now?  " 

"  Tom  —  constable?  "  repeated  Sherry.  "  You're 
joking,  Alice,  aren't  you?" 

"  Indeed  I'm  not." 

Sherry  Gilstar  burst  out  laughing  at  the  idea. 
"  Why  -  -  Tom  —  great  Scott !  —  that's  a  corker,  isn't 
it?  Why,  Tom  —  of  course  Tom  is  an  awfully  fine 
fellow,  I  know  that  —  but  I  didn't  suppose  he  had 
nerve  enough.  You  know  Tom  was  always  afraid  to 
get  his  head  under  water,  so  he  never  learned  to  swim. 
When  we  boys  played  '  stump-the-leader,'  Tom  always 
used  to  quit  first.  He  must  have  changed." 

"  Well,  he's  constable,  anyway,"  was  the  non-com 
mittal  answer. 

"  Oh,  well,  Alice,  I'm  glad  for  Tom.  Only  it  did 
seem  a  little  queer." 

"  Is  your  friend,  who  came  to  our  house,  going  to 
stay  here  in  Tredick  too?" 

"  I  hope  so.     His  name  is  Murray.     He's  been  a 


44  KHAKI 

real  pal,  Hop  has.  I'm  afraid  he  won't  like  it  here  at 
first.  Hop  is  a  New  Yorker,  dyed  in  the  wool,  and  he 
gets  miserable  and  lonesome  every  time  he  gets  out  of 
sight  of  the  skyscrapers.  But  I'm  hoping  he'll  like  it. 
-  The  first  thing,  of  course  is  to  get  jobs.  I  want 
to  get  to  work,  Alice.  I  want  to  begin  to  build  up, 
again.  I'll  take  most  any  old  thing  that  will  give  me 
a  living.  I'm  pretty  well  acquainted  with  gas  engines, 
now  —  worked  on  'em  in  the  army.  In  fact  I'm — 
something  of  a  machinist."  As  he  spoke,  Sherry's 
eyes  glowed  with  enthusiasm,  and  he  gesticulated  with 
his  hands  in  the  manner  he  had  somehow  caught  up 
from  the  Latins  of  the  Eastern  Seas. 

"  Oh,  I'm  sure  there'll  be  something  good  for  you, 
Sherry,"  said  Alice,  catching  the  enthusiasm. 

"  There's  one  thing,"  added  Sherry,  becoming  very 
sober  again.  "  You  don't  suppose  —  folks  will  be  too 
inquisitive  —  about  what  —  where  I've  been  —  and  all 
that.  I  know  you  are  solid  gold,  Alice  —  but  —  but 
the  town  —  -  Tredick  - 

"  You  don't  have  to  mind  what  people  say,"  she 
answered  quickly.  "  It's  your  own  business. —  And 
now,  Sherry,  I  think  you'd  better  come  down  to  our 
house.  I  want  you  to  see  my  father,  the  very  first 
thing.  You  won't  pay  any  attention  to  him  if  he  isn't 
cordial  at  first,  will  you?  I'm  sure  after  you  tell  him 
what  you've  told  me  —  I  mean  about  wanting  to  go  to 
work  here  —  and  —  all  —  he'll  be  glad.  I'm  sure  - 

The  young  fellow  and  girl  had  been  so  engrossed 
with  their  affairs  that  they  had  not  heard  a  carriage 
drive  up  to  the  end  of  the  log-road ;  nor  had  they  heard 
any  one  approaching.  The  first  intimation  they  had, 
that  they  were  no  longer  alone,  was  a  tight,  distressed 
voice,  which  cried,  "  Alice!  " 

They  turned  quickly,  and  faced  Deacon  Bradshaw. 
The  deacon  had  evidently  been  running,  and  was  other- 


KHAKI  45 

wise  laboring  under  unwonted  excitement.  He  was 
staring  at  the  young  people  with  amazement  and  dis 
pleasure.  But  it  was  apparent  that  he  did  not  look 
sharply  enough  at  Sherry  Gilstar  to  recognize  him. 

"  Father !  "  said  the  girl.  "  What  —  are  you  doing 
here?" 

"  What  am  I  doing  here  ?  "  responded  the  old  man, 
breathlessly.  "  I  should  like  to  know  what  you're  do 
ing  here  —  what  you  mean  by  coming  up  here  with  a 
strange  man  —  everybody  in  the  village  talking  about 
it- 

"  Please  don't  be  silly,  now,  dad,"  said  the  girl. 
"  We'll  explain  everything.  This  is  Sherry  Gilstar, 
father.  He's  come  back  — 

"  Sherry  Gilstar !  "  cried  the  deacon.  Then  he  shot 
one  look  at  the  young  fellow,  and  involuntarily  stepped 
back.  The  distress  and  wonder  in  his  eyes  gave  place 
instantly  to  anger.  His  white-bearded  lower  lip  and 
chin  trembled  with  passion.  "Sherry  Gilstar!"  he 
repeated.  "What's  —  what's  the  meaning  of  this! 
Speak,  Alice!  What  does  this  mean?  You.  sir,  what 
are  you  doing  here?  How  dare  you  send  a  strange 
man  to  my  house  to  lure  my  daughter  up  here  ?  " 

"  Now,  please  —  "  began  Alice,  trembling,  but  keep 
ing  her  poise. 

"  I'm  sorry,  Deacon  Bradshaw,"  said  Sherry. 
"  Perhaps  I  shouldn't  have  done  it.  I  didn't  mean  to 
do  anything  that  wasn't  right.  I've  just,  come  back  to 
Tredick  —  and  to  tell  you  the  truth,  deacon,  I  wanted 
Alice  to  get  me  an  interview  with  you  —  I  didn't 
know  how  you'd  feel  about  it  if  I  saw  you  first  — 

"  Stop !  "  roared  the  deacon.  "  Not  another  word, 
while  my  daughter  is  here !  Alice,  Jud  Williams  drove 
me  up  here.  His  buggy  is  down  at  the  road.  You  go 
get  into  it." 

The  girl  reddened  deeper  than  ever.     She  hesitated. 


46  KHAKI 

"  Now,  do  be  reasonable,  father,"  she  said,  quietly. 
"  You  know  I'm  old  enough  to  take  care- 

*  Alice,  you  will  do  what  I  say  —  at  once !  "  was  the 
reply.  "  I  am  in  earnest.  Immediately !  " 

There  was  no  possible  doubt  that  Deacon  Bradshaw 
meant  what  he  said.  The  sight  of  Sherry  Gilstar 
seemed  to  have  infuriated  him  —  as  though  all  the  past 
galloped  into  his  mind  in  a  twinkling.  The  girl  bowed 
her  head.  But,  with  her  head  bowed,  she  murmured 
to  her  companion,  "  Please  be  careful,  now,  Sherry." 
Then  she  walked  down  the  road,  with  her  head  up, 
and  passed  out  of  sight  beyond  the  underbrush. 

First,  the  deacon  turned  to  see  that  his  daughter 
was  out  of  hearing.  Then,  bitterly,  almost  with  a 
snarl,  he  said  to  Sherry  Gilstar.  "  Now,  sir !  What 
have  you  got  to  say  for  yourself?  Why  do  you  come 
sneaking  back  here  to  get  my  daughter  into  ill  repute? 
Speak  up,  sir !  " 

The  young  fellow's  fingers  clenched  involuntarily, 
and  his  jaw  set  firmly.  It  was  only  after  a  pause,  dur 
ing  which  he  looked  unflinchingly  into  the  angry  eyes 
before  him,  that  he  dared  to  speak.  Then  forcing  a 
little  smile  he  said,  steadily,  "  I  began  to  tell  you  why  I 
had  come  back,  Mr.  Bradshaw,  but  you  wouldn't  let  me. 
I'm  sorry  I  asked  Alice  to  see  me.  It  was  thoughtless. 
You  must  know  it  was  the  last  thought  I'd  have,  to 
cause  her  any  trouble.  I  wanted  to  see  her  first  because 
—  because  I  thought  she'd  understand  better  than  any 
body  else.  I  wanted  to  know  how  things  stood  here  in 
Tredick,  whether  it  would  be  all  right  for  me  to  come 
home  and  go  to  work,  at  something." 

But  there  was  another  awful  fear  running  through 
the  deacon's  head,  now.  He  scarcely  gave  attention  to 
what  Sherry  Gilstar  was  saying,  so  violent  was  the 
assault  this  new  suspicion,  or  dread,  upon  him. 

"  There  can't  be  anything  between  my  daughter  and 


KHAKI  47 

you,"  the  deacon  wrenched  out,  as  though  every  word 
cut  him  to  the  heart. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean  by  that,"  was  the 
reply. 

"  Yes  you  do  —  you  do  —  you're  lying  to  me,  Gil- 
star,"  groaned  the  father.  "  You  —  but  no!  You're 
wrong  if  you  think  a  girl  like  Alice  would  stoop  to 
notice  a  fellow  like  you  —  a  soldier  —  a  fellow  who 
slinks  away  and  doesn't  dare  show  his  head.  It  was 
sympathy  —  that  was  it !  You  worked  on  her  sym 
pathy." 

Again  the  impetuous  blood  of  the  young  fellow  went 
almost  out  of  control.  But  he  shuddered  and  replied. 
"If  you  mean  that  I've  always  liked  Alice,  and  she  has 
always  been  a  friend  to  me  —  yes,"  he  said.  "  If  you 
mean  anything  else  —  I  don't  think  you  ought  to  say 
those  things  to  me.  It  isn't  right  to  her,  is  it,  Mr. 
Bradshaw?" 

"  Ha !  Don't  tell  me  what's  right  and  what's  wrong, 
Gilstar,"  was  the  savage  answer.  But  evidently  the 
shot  went  to  the  mark,  for  it  had  a  quieting  effect. 
There  was  a  long  pause.  Then  the  deacon  went  on 
and  grew  calmer  as  he  went  on : 

"  Sherry,  we  won't  waste  any  words.  Granting 
your  intentions  are  good,  the  best  thing  you  could  do 
would  be  to  keep  away.  You're  a  deserter  from  the 
army,  aren't  you?  " 

The  deacon  thought  he  was  making  a  shrewd  guess. 
Sherry  had  to  laugh  inwardly  at  the  knowing  cock  of 
the  deacon's  head,  as  he  uttered  the  sage  divination. 
"  No,  sir;  I  was  honorably  discharged.  I'll  show  you 
my  papers  — 

"  ,You  needn't.  Anyway,  you've  been  up  to  no 
good,  since  then.  If  you  had,  you  wouldn't  come 
sneaking  in  the  back  door  of  Tredick.  You'd  walk  in 
like  a  man  —  and  the  first  person  you'd  see  would  be 


48  KHAKI 

your  mother  —  and  the  next  would  be  your  aunt,  or 
sister,  or  brother." 

Sherry  Gilstar  went  white.  It  was  a  blow  in  the 
solar  plexus.  He  knew  there  was  truth  in  this.  He 
hung  his  head  and  was  silent. 

"  You  haven't  cared  enough  about  your  family  to 
show  up  here.  Have  you  done  anything  to  support 
your  mother?  Not  a  cent's  worth.  If  she  hasn't 
been  in  want,  it  isn't  your  fault.  Look  at  your  brother 
Tom  !  There's  a  boy  to  be  proud  of !  A  steady,  hard 
working  fellow,  with  a  level  head  —  and  we've  made 
him  constable,  too.  You  could  have  had  your  rewards, 
too,  if  there'd  been  anything  to  you.  No,  sir;  don't 
tell  me !  The  best  thing  you  can  do  is  to  take  to  your 
tracks,  back  where  you  came  from.  And  that  fellow 
who  came  with  you,  too.  Your  mother  and  your  aunt 
Prudence  think  that  maybe  you're  in  the  army  yet,  and 
maybe  will  be  a  hero  some  day.  Ha!  Hero!  You 
better  let  them  think  so,  hadn't  you?  " 

"  Perhaps  you're  right,"  said  Sherry,  weakly. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  urged  the  deacon,  quickly,  taking  ad 
vantage  of  the  point.  "If  you've  done  anything  you're 
sorry  for,  Gilstar  —  and  I  guess  there's  no  doubt  about 
that  —  you  can  sort  of  even  things  up  by  just  staying 
away.  Alice  and  I'll  say  nothing  about  it."  Then 
into  the  deacon's  eyes  there  came  a  great  blaze  of 
shrewdness.  "  And  you'd  be  doing  your  brother  Tom 
a  favor  too.  Tom's  doing  well.  He's  well  liked.  I 
like  him.  And  that  means,  when  I  say  I  like  him,  that 
he'll  go  far,  Sherry.  You  don't  want  to  spoil  it. 
I  don't  say  there's  likely  to  be  anything  between  him 
and  Alice,  my  daughter;  I  don't  say  that;  but  if  ever 
anything  should  come  up,  why,  his  family  is  just  as 
good,  for  all  anybody  knows  now,  as  the  Bradshaws, 
and  - 

It  was  the  last  straw.     The  young  fellow  couldn't 


KHAKI  49 

possibly  know  that  what  the  deacon  was  saying  was 
merely  in  response  to  an  idea  that  had  been  developing 
in  the  older  man's  mind,  unbacked  by  any  evidenced  af 
fection  between  the  two  persons  in  question.  Sherry 
couldn't  know  that.  So  the  thing  hit  him  in  the  face, 
and  sent  him  reeling  backwards.  Something  in  his 
head  creaked  and  strained  —  he  saw  crimson  and  yel 
low  flames.  All  the  good  resolutions  he  had  made 
went  into  thin  air. 

Sherry  was  shaking  a  fist  under  the  deacon's  face. 
"  All  right,"  he  yelled,  harshly,  and  in  a  coarse  manner 
that  seemed  new  to  him.  "  You've  said  something, 
deacon.  I'll  blow.  To  hell  with  the  whole  lot  of  you. 
I  was  crazy  to  think  of  coming  back  here,  to  associate 
with  a  bunch  of  hard-shelled  suckers  like  you,  anyway. 
I've  got  just  one  thing  to  say:  if  I  hear  that  you've 
told  anybody  I've  been  here,  I'll  come  back  and  make 
this  town  warm!  Go  ahead,  now,  beat  it,  deacon, 
before  I  forget  you're  the  father  of  the  finest  girl  that 
ever  lived.  I'll  go;  don't  you  worry." 

The  deacon  went,  not  without  turning  several  times 
anxiously,  as  he  went  down  the  path.  But  there  was 
no  danger.  All  he  saw  was  a  young  man,  crumpled 
up  on  the  ground;  and  if  he  had  been  nearer,  or  had 
listened,  intently,  he  could  have  heard  the  crumpled 
figure  shaking  with  sobs. 

Not  a  word  passed  between  Deacon  Bradshaw  and 
his  daughter  until  bed  time  that  night.  Then,  as  the 
girl  said,  faintly,  "  Good  night,  father,"  and  started  up 
stairs,  he  called  her  back. 

"  Alice,"  said  the  man,  "  I  guess  you'll  agree  with 
me  that  it  would  be  better  not  to  mention  this  to  any 
one.  Sherry's  going  to  do  what's  best." 

Her  eyes  were  red  and  tired.  "  What's  best?  "  she 
asked,  tremulously.  "  You  mean,  he's  going  away 
again." 


'50  KHAKI 

"  Yes.  He's  got  that  much  sense. —  As  I  said,  there 
won't  be  any  need  of  mentioning  that  he's  been  here, 
will  there  ?  It  wouldn't  do  anybody  any  good,  would 
it?" 

She  stood  there,  pale,  for  a  moment.  Then  she  said, 
wearily,  "  You're  right,  father.  It'll  be  best  not  to. 
Good  night." 

But  Sherry's  meeting  with  Hop  Murray  was  not 
so  placid.  Hop  had  stayed  away  what  he  considered 
the  proper  length  of  time,  and  then  he  went  over  to  the 
shack.  Sherry  was  already  there.  He  was  sitting  on 
the  edge  of  the  bunk. 

"  Say,  Sherry ! "  was  Hop's  cheerful  greeting. 
"  Y'  know,  I  kind  of  like  this  little  burg  of  yours.  I'm 
game  to  try  it,  a  while.  Maybe  I'd  decide  to  stay 
here." 

"  Stay  here !  "  cried  Sherry.  "  I  wouldn't  stay  here 
for  a  million.  I  wouldn't  be  found  dead  here.  Come 
on;  I've  been  waiting  for  you.  Every  breath  of  this 
air  makes  me  sick.  We'll  beat  it  on  the  first  train." 

Hop  looked  astounded.  "  Why,  just  now  you  said 
He  stopped,  catching  sight  of  Sherry's  face. 
"  Oh,"  he  said,  "  I  get  you.  Your  hopes  have  been 
croaked." 

Sherry  jumped  up.  "  Listen,  Hop,"  he  said,  "  after 
now,  this  town  is  pickings  for  us.  Get  me?  There's 
nothing  doing  for  us  in  the  straight  line,  kid ;  so  we'll 
show  'em  something  the  other  way.  Wait  till  we 
frame  up  something,  as  soon  as  we  get  back.  We  can 
walk  in  here,  any  time,  and  take  their  shirts.  I've 
been  listening  to  a  lot  of  bunk  about  my  brother  Tom, 
Hop,  it  seems,  he's  the  local  hero!  He's  the  cop  we 
lamped  last  night,  at  the  station.  He's  as  big  as  a 
house,  and  he's  as  brave  as  a  jack-rabbit.  So  help  me, 
Hop,  I  don't  want  to  knock  my  own  folks,  but  we'll 
run  up  behind  Tom  some  night,  and  smash  a  paper 


KHAKI  '51 

bag,  and  send  him  to  the  hospital  with  shock.  They 
been  telling  me  what  a  lovely  feller  he  is,  and  why 
don't  I  be  like  him.  Come  on.  We've  been  smoking 
the  wrong  stuff.  I  feel  like  I'd  had  shot  of  dope  under 
my  skin,  and  it  was  just  wearing  off." 

Hop  hesitated.  Sherry  cried,  roughly,  "  Well, 
stupid,  what  are  you  waiting  for?  " 

"  Don't  get  noisy,  Sherry,"  he  said,  "  I  was  just 
thinking,  it  was  too  bad  to  leave  a  place  where  they 
have  fresh  eggs  like  them  I  eat  this  morning." 


VI 

IT  was  the  last  day  of  March  about  noon,  when  a 
wagon  drove  up  in  front  of  the  Gilstar  house,  and  a 
young  fellow,  after  removing  the  headstall  from  the 
horse,  substituted  therefor  a  halter  and  nose-bag,  and 
hitched  the  animal  to  a  post.  Winter  had  not  yet 
entirely  disappeared  from  the  roads.  There  was  not 
only  a  white  mantle  of  snow  remaining  on  the  hills 
surrounding  Tredick,  but  the  going  was,  as  we  say, 
good  for  neither  "  wheels  nor  runners."  Lingering 
drifts  alternated  with  stretches  of  sodden  earth  which, 
freezing  lightly  at  night,  thawed  into  mudholes  in  the 
sun;  and  as  a  result  the  peddler's  wagon  outside  Mrs. 
Gilstar's  was  so  plastered  with  accumulated  mud  that 
the  fellies  of  the  wheels  were  nowhere  visible. 

The  wagon  was  a  modern  variant  of  one  of  those 
curious  and  interesting  peddling  carts  which  used  to 
ply  through  the  country.  This  one  had  a  wagon  box 
with  a  closed  back,  but  on  top  were  iron  wash  tubs, 
pots,  kettles,  brooms,  wooden-ware,  and  even  a  roll 
of  linoleum  carpet. 

Sam  Greenberg,  the  owner  of  the  traveling  depart 
ment  store,  opened  the  back  of  the  cart,  took  out  an 
aluminum  double-boiler,  and  with  it  under  his  arm 
entered  the  house.  Tom  Gilstar  had  just  arisen,  and 
was  splashing  his  face  and  hands  in  the  ice-cold  water 
of  the  kitchen  sink.  He  turned  as  Sam  Greenberg  en 
tered,  and  sputtered  a  greeting  through  his  hands. 

"  Hello,  mother,"  was  the  peddler's  half-affection 
ate,  half-bantering  greeting  to  Mrs.  Gilstar,  as  she 

52 


KHAKI  '53 

came  out  from  the  dining-room.  "  Here's  something 
to  cook  your  oatmeal  in."  He  put  the  aluminum  boiler 
on  the  back  of  the  stove,  as  he  spoke. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Greenberg,  I'm  afraid  —  "  began  the  gen 
tle  Mrs.  Gilstar,  whose  weakness  was  that  she  did  not 
know  how  to  refuse  to  buy  anything  that  was  offered 
at  her  door. 

"  Oh,  this  is  free,  ma,"  said  Sam  quickly.  "  Just 
a  little  gift,  that's  all." 

There  came  into  the  placid,  patient  eyes  a  little  dis 
tressed  look.  "  Oh,  I  mustn't  take  it,  Mr.  Greenberg," 
said  Mrs.  Gilstar.  '  You're  all  the  time  giving  me 
things  like  this.  I  don't  feel  right  about  it,  really. 
Because  you  won't  let  me  give  you  your  dinner,  ever, 
without  paying  for  it." 

"  Aw,  forget  it !  "  replied  Sam.  "  I've  got  a  right 
to  blow  myself  now  and  then.  It  makes  me  feel  like  a 
millionaire.  Besides,  whenever  a  Jew  peddler  offers 
you  something  for  nothing,  you  better  take  it  and  figure 
the  poor  boob  has  gone  nutty." 

As  he  spoke,  Greenberg  laughed.  But  it  was  not  the 
whole-hearted  laugh  of  a  man  really  enjoying  a  joke. 
Something  in  his  dark  eyes  shone  with  a  certain  defi 
ance —  as  though  an  unjust  accusation  had  to  be  re 
futed. 

Any  such  inference  as  this  never  occurred  to  the 
innocent  Mrs.  Gilstar.  She  just  stood  there  wonder 
ing  whether  she  ought  to  accept  the  gift.  But,  from 
the  doorway,  Miss  Prudence  Perkins  had  heard  the 
words.  She  stepped  into  the  kitchen,  saying : 

"  Don't  you  take  it,  Phoebe !  Greenberg  thinks  we 
might  think  he's  stingy,  and  he  wants  to  show  us  he 
isn't." 

Sam  gazed  at  the  spinster  with  real  admiration.  A 
little  color  came  into  his  clean  shaven  cheeks,  which 
looked  dark-bluish  from  the  heavy  beard  under  the 


54  KHAKI 

skin.  He  shook  his  head  and  smiled.  "  Right  there 
with  the  Sherlock  Holmes  stuff,  as  usual,  Miss  Per 
kins!  "  he  exclaimed.  "  But,  honest,  this  time  you're 
wrong.  No;  I  wasn't  thinking  of  that.  I  really  want 
ma  to  have  the  boiler.  I'll  tell  you  why.  She  makes 
me  feel  more  like  at  home  than  any  place  I've  ever  been 
since  I  left  home.  Honest,  you  don't  know  how  I 
look  forward  to  getting  here  on  Saturday,  and  spend 
ing  Sunday.  I  don't  know  just  what  it  is  —  some 
how  you  treat  a  fellow  like  he  was  human.  And 
then,  the  eats.  Oh,  my,  the  eats  I  get  here !  I  begin 
to  taste  'em  on  Wednesday  before  I  strike  Tredick. 
Is  dinner  most  ready,  Mrs.  Gilstar?  I'm  as  hungry 
as  a  hobo." 

Prudence  Perkins  looked  at  the  little  dark  fellow 
a  moment.  Then  she  said  to  her  sister.  "  I  believe 
he  means  it,  Phcebe.  You  better  accept  the  gift." 
And  Mrs.  Gilstar  added,  shyly : 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Greenberg.  Yes,  we  were  all 
ready  to  eat  when  you  drove  up."  By  this  time  Tom 
was  ready,  and  they  all  sat  down  to  dinner. 

"  Had  to  kill  any  crooks  yet,  Tom?  "  asked  Green- 
berg,  jocularly.  From  having  eaten  at  the  Gilstar 
home  and  stopped  over  Sunday  there  for  the  past  year, 
he  seemed  almost  like  one  of  the  family. 

For  reply  Tom  grinned  rather  sheepishly.  "  No, 
not  yet,"  he  answered. 

"  Well,  we  may  all  have  to  get  out  our  shooting  irons 
pretty  soon,"  added  Sam,  carelessly. 

"  You  don't  think  —  there's  any  possibility  —  of 
war  —  that  is,  our  being  involved  in  the  war,  do  you  ?  " 
asked  Mrs.  Gilstar.  She  looked  upon  Sam  as  a  bit 
of  an  oracle,  due  to  his  itinerant  life,  and  his  New 
York  freshness  of  manner. 

"  Oh,  I  was  only  kidding,"  Sam  replied.  "  No,  not 
a  chance  in  the  world.  The  Wall  street  crowd 


KHAKI  55 

wouldn't  stand  for  it.  They  can  make  too  much 
money  by  staying  out  and  selling  stuff  to  the  poor  simps 
on  the  other  side.  Gee,  it  gives  me  a  headache,  though, 
trying  to  keep  up  with  prices.  What  d'ye  think? 
Common  sheeting  —  common  sheeting,  mind  you  —  I 
used  to  buy  for — "  And  here  Sam  ran  off  into  the 
intricacies  of  trade. 

"  Can  you  make  as  much  as  before  the  war  —  or 
more?"  was  Prudence's  pointed  question. 

"  Well,  yes,  Miss  Perkins,"  replied  Sam.  "  People 
are  buying  more,  because  they've  got  more  money.  I 
think  it's  about  an  even  break,  though,  now;  and  if 
prices  go  any  higher,  it  won't  look  so  good.  By  the 
way,  Miss  Perkins,  I've  been  saving  a  nice  piece  of 
dress  goods  for  you  — 

"  I  don't  want  it,"  interrupted  Miss  Perkins,  on  the 
defensive  at  once. 

"  Nobody  ever  wants  anything  till  they  see  it,"  re 
plied  Sam,  mixing  business  with  food  without  the 
slightest  prejudice  to  either.  '  This  is  something 
extra  fine,  believe  me.  I'll  make  a  price  on  it.  It's 
a  part  of  a  job  I  picked  up." 

"  Don't  want  it.     I've  got  too  many  clothes  now." 

"  But  nothing  like  this.  This  goods  will  —  well,  it's 
a  kind  of  youthful  color  and  design,"  said  Sam,  wink 
ing  at  Tom. 

But  the  spinster  merely  grinned.  "  I  want  some 
thing  to  make  me  look  older,"  she  parried.  "  I'm 
being  mistaken  for  a  school-girl  right  along." 

Sam  Greenberg  laughed  heartily.  "  You're  all 
right,  Miss  Perkins,"  he  said.  "  I  hand  it  to  you. 
Nothing  gets  by  you.  But,  on  the  level,  I  want  you 
to  see  this  cloth." 

"  Well,  bring  it  in  after  dinner,"  she  said. 

"  The  deacon  dropped  in  this  morning,  Prudence," 
said  Mrs.  Gilstar.  "  He  told  me  to  tell  you  that  the 


56  KHAKI 

Universal  Peace  meeting  is  to  be  held  Monday  after 
noon.  He  wants  you  to  be  sure  to  come  —  we're  all 
going.  I'm  sure  there'll  be  a  great  crowd  there.  It'll 
be  exciting,  won't  it?  It's  too  bad  you  can't  stay  to 
it,  Mr.  Greenberg.'' 

"  Yes,  I  know  about  it.  I'll  be  there,"  replied  Miss 
Perkins,  with  an  inflection  which  was  not  understood 
at  the  time.  "It  ought  to  be  interesting.  I'm  sure 
the  country  is  waiting  to  hear  what  Tredick  has  to  say 
on  the  subject.  You  better  stay  over,  Greenberg." 

"  Couldn't  do  it." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know.  Maybe  you  can.  You  go 
and  get  that  cloth  now,  and  bring  it  in  here  so  I  can 
tell  you  I  don't  want  it." 

Sam  brought  in  the  dress-goods.  But  he  didn't 
show  them.  Instead,  when  he  entered  the  sitting- 
room,  Miss  Perkins  waved  him  into  a  chair.  Then 
she  went  over  and  closed  the  door,  and  sat  down,  and 
stared  at  the  peddler  with  those  hard  eyes  of  hers. 
Sam,  wondering,  twiddled  his  fingers,  nervously. 

"  Greenberg,''  said  Prudence,  suddenly,  "  why  don't 
you  open  a  store,  instead  of  traipsing  around  the  coun 
try  with  that  horse  and  wagon  ?  Haven't  you  got  the 
money,  yet?  " 

Sam  returned  the  stare,  now,  with  interest.  A  sar 
donic  smile  came  on  his  heavy  lips  as  he  replied,  "  No, 
Miss  Perkins." 

"  You  haven't  made  much,  peddling,  then?  " 

"  Oh,  I've  made  enough,  sure.  But  I  haven't 
got  it." 

"  Speculation?     You  don't  gamble,  do  you?" 

Sam  shifted  about  uneasily.  He  didn't  enjoy  the 
cross-examination ;  and  yet  he  was  curious  to  find  what 
was  at  the  bottom  of  it.  He  knew  Miss  Perkins  well 
enough  to  know  that  her  interest  was  not  idle. 


KHAKI  '57 

"  No,"  was  the  answer.  Then  Sam  sat  back  in  the 
chair,  and  looked  at  the  ceiling,  and  whistled  softly. 
Finally  he  said,  "  Listen,  I'll  tell  you  the  truth ;  but  I 
don't  ask  you  to  believe  it.  I  would  have  had  a  store 
by  this  time,  but  I've  been  paying  off  a  few  bills." 

"  So  you  got  into  debt,  eh?  " 

"  Why,  I  didn't.  The  old  man  did.  You  see,  my 
father  was  in  the  fur  business,  and  he  was  making 
money,  until  he  discovered  that  he  was  a  philosopher. 
Sure,  that's  right.  He  found  the  business  interfered 
with  his  reading,  and  thinking,  so  he  gave  less  time  to 
business  and  more  time  to  a  bunch  of  Yiddish  philoso 
phers  with  mattresses  on  their  faces  and,  oi,  oi,  such  a 
fine  bunch  of  words !  He  might  of  stood  that,  too,  but 
pretty  soon  he  branched  off  into  bum  German  philoso 
phers  —  these  guys  that  tell  you  that  what  you  think 
ain't  so,  because  you  only  think  you  think,  and  even  if 
you  do  think,  you're  wrong,  because  you  didn't  start 
thinking  at  the  right  place,  so  you  got  to  go  back  and 
think  all  over  again,  and  be  wrong  some  other  way. 
Pretty  soon,  the  old  man  paid  forty  cents  on  the  dollar 
and  woke  up.  He's  working  for  the  kid  that  used  to 
run  errands  for  him,  now.  And  —  well,  that's  all." 

'  You  don't  mean  to  say  you've  been  helping  him 
pay  up?"  said  Prudence  with  a  new  and  different 
interest. 

"  I  wouldn't  tell  you  that,  because  you  wouldn't  be 
lieve  it,"  was  the  ironic  answer. 

"  Well,  see  if  I  believe  it.     Is  that  so?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Sam,  after  hesitating. 

"  1  believe  it,  Greenberg.  Huh !  Well !  —  Had  you 
any  idea  that  a  good  dry-goods  and  notion  store  might 
be  started  here  in  Tredick?  " 

"  Had  I?  "  answered  Sam,  giving  voice  to  a  feeling 
he  had  been  nourishing  hopelessly  for  a  long  time. 


58  KHAKI 

"  Say,  Miss  Perkins,  when  I  heard  Deacon  Bradshaw 
had  bought  in  the  Williams  store,  I  nearly  turned 
green.  I  wanted  that  place  myself.  But  I  - 

"  Wait  a  minute,  Greenberg.  That's  what  I'm  get 
ting  at.  The  deacon  has  bought  out  the  Williams 
store.  But  he  don't  know  anything  about  the  business, 
and  he  won't  spend  any  money  to  make  a  good  store  of 
it.  Now,  I've  got  a  vacant  store  in  my  block,  you 
know.  It's  situated  just  right  for  a  live,  up-to-date 
store.  How  would  you  like  to  open,  there?  " 

"  Well,  I  told  you  - 

"  I  know  you  did.  But  I  thought  I  might  make  a 
little  investment  myself.  I've  been  watching  you, 
Greenberg,  for  a  long  time.  I  guess  you're  honest. 
And  you  know  something  about  the  business  — 

"  Do  I  ?  "  exclaimed  Sam,  with  enthusiasm.  "  Say, 
Miss  Perkins,  if  I  do  say  it,  I  can  pick  up  jobs  where 
there  ain't  any.  Last  week  - 

Miss  Perkins  rose,  as  though  she  had  made  up  her 
mind.  She  looked  around  cautiously,  and  then  said, 
"  You  better  come  over  to  the  block,  to  my  office. 
There's  nobody  to  hear  us  over  there.  The  deacon! 
Huh !  We  will  show  him." 

The  Perkins  Block  was  the  newest  and  best  busi 
ness  structure  in  Tredick.  It  was  a  three-story  build 
ing,  of  brick,  with  three  stores  on  the  street  floor, 
small  business  offices  on  the  second,  and  a  large  hall, 
commonly  known  as  "  Perkins  Hall  "  on  the  third. 
One  of  the  stores  on  the  ground  floor  had  not  been 
rented,  and  it  was  this  one  that  the  canny  business 
woman  intended  to  set  at  work  in  her  own  behoof. 
The  offices  upstairs  were  fully  occupied,  one  of  them 
by  Miss  Perkins  herself,  and  it  was  to  this  modern 
little  room,  neatly  furnished  with  up-to-date  business 
appliances,  that  the  queerly  assorted  pair  adjourned. 

"  When  I  get  an  idea,  I  like  to  see  it  right  through," 


KHAKI  59 

explained  Miss  Perkins,  "  so  we  may  as  well  thresh  out 
the  thing  here.  The  first  thing  you  want  to  do,  Green- 
berg,  is  to  inventory  your  outfit.  My  idea  is  to  incor 
porate,  and  take  an  even  number  of  shares.  I'll  lend 
you,  on  your  note,  six  per  cent.,  enough  money  to  buy 
your  half,  if  you  need  it.  What's  a  good  name  for  a 
store  ?  We  want  something  catchy  —  something  like 
'  The  Fifth  Avenue.'  Or  '  The  White  Way.' ' 

"  '  The  Fifth  Avenue  '--  that's  a  peach  of  a  name/' 
assented  Sam. 

"  Well,  it'll  bear  thinking  of."  Miss  Perkins  had 
no  ideas  that  were  not  subject  to  this  qualification  — 
that  they  would  bear  thinking  of.  "  Now,"  she  went 
on  briskly,  "  you  better  think  it  all  over  to-morrow,  and 
Monday  we  can  draw  up  papers.  If  it  looks  all  right 
to  you,  we'll  put  a  big  advertisement  in  the  Tredick 
paper  next  Thursday,  announcing  our  opening.  We'll 
put  two  pages  —  in  big  type." 

"  Two  pages  —  whew  !  "  uttered  Greenberg.  But 
he  nodded,  afterward,  in  approval.  "  That'll  knock 
'em  cold,"  he  said. 

"  We  won't  need  that  horse  and  wagon,  I  figure," 
went  on  Miss  Perkins.  "  It  don't  pay  to  make  deliv 
eries  here  —  at  least,  not  now.  How  much  do  you  put 
that  horse  in  at  ?  " 

"  Why,  a  hundred  dollars,"  answered  Sam. 

"  A  hundred  dollars !  "  was  the  shrill  retort.  "  I 
guess  not,  Greenberg.  I  hope  you  didn't  pay  a  hun 
dred  dollars  for  that  skate." 

'  That's  a  pretty  good  horse,  Miss  Perkins,"  said 
Sam.  "  I  paid  eighty-five  dollars  for  her,  honest." 

"  Well,  you  got  stuck,"  was  the  cold  answer.  "  You 
can  put  her  in  at  sixty.  You  know  that's  enough. 
The  wagon  you  can  sell  for  what  you  can  get.  Of 
course,  you'll  draw  a  salary  in  the  store;  and  if  I  work 
there  helping  out  on  Saturdays  or  special  times,  it's 


60  KHAKI 

understood  I  draw,  too.  We'll  arrange  those  details 
later." 

Sam  Greenberg  sat  back  and  gazed  at  the  angular 
spinster  with  unconcealed  admiration.  He  understood 
perfectly,  now,  why  it  was  that  she  was  the  richest 
person  in  the  county.  She  didn't  miss  a  point.  When 
she  approached  a  business  deal  like  this,  she  was  as 
prepared  for  the  details  as  though  she  were  reading 
from  a  stenographic  copy.  "  You're  a  wonder,  Miss 
Perkins,"  he  gasped.  "  I  thought  I  had  some  pep,  my 
self.  I  guess  I'm  the  piker,  after  all." 

"  Thanks,"  she  replied,  dryly.  "  But  don't  under 
rate  yourself.  You'll  carry  the  weight  of  the  firm, 
remember.  I've  got  other  irons  in  the  fire." 

There  was  a  light  knock  on  the  door.  Miss  Perkins 
looked  a  little  annoyed  at  the  interruption.  Then  she 
laid  a  warning  finger  on  her  lips,  looking  at  Sam,  and 
cried,  "  Come  in !  " 

It  was  Prof.  George  Watling  Wenham,  principal  of 
the  Tredick  Academy.  The  professor  was  a  heavily 
set  man,  whose  torso  was  built  somewhat  after  the  plan 
of  an  egg,  with  the  heavy  end  down.  That  is,  he  car 
ried  a  good  deal  of  weight  around  the  waist,  and  ran 
up  to  a  point  at  the  top,  having  a  phenomenally  narrow 
and  thin  chest,  and  not  a  very  large  head.  Half  of 
Mr.  Wenham's  head  was  bald,  about  back  to  his  ears, 
and  the  rest  of  his  head  was  prolific  of  black  hair, 
which  he  allowed  to  grow  long  in  the  rear.  He  wore 
thick  spectacles,  and  his  nose  was  sharp  and  inquiring 
as  though  he  had  spent  all  his  life  scenting  errors  in 
grammatical  construction.  Finally,  the  professor  was 
oratorically  given.  He  spoke  in  large  sentences,  al 
most  perorations;  and  these  would  have  been  more 
effective  had  he  not  some  time  acquired  a  painful  habit 
of  stopping  midway  in  a  sentence  to  reflect  and  emit 
an  "um-hah!" 


KHAKI  61 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  began  Mr.  Wenham,  looking 
curiously  at  Sam  Greenberg.  "  But  I  called  to  get  the 
key  to  your  hall,  upstairs.  Deacon  Bradshaw  has  in 
formed  me  —  um-hah  !  —  that  you  have  donated  it  for 
the  Universal  Peace  meeting,  on  Monday  afternoon." 

"Is  that  so?"  replied  the  spinster,  sarcastically. 
"  It's  the  first  I've  heard  of  it.  Deacon  Bradshaw  has 
misinformed  you,  professor.  My  price  for  the  use  of 
the  hall  is  ten  dollars." 

"  But  the  deacon  said  you'd  be  there,  and  sit  on  the 
platform,  and  —  um-hah  !  —  we  thought  that  your  nat 
ural  interest  in  Universal  Peace  would  —  um-hah !  — 
naturally  prompt  you  — 

"  I  told  the  deacon  I'd  be  there,"  responded  Miss 
Perkins  crisply.  "  I  did  not  tell  him  I  would  sit  on 
the  platform.  I  shall  sit  in  the  audience.  And  the 
hall  will  cost  you  ten  dollars."  She  took  a  key  from 
her  desk,  as  she  spoke. 

"  The  purpose  of  the  meeting  is  purely  philan 
thropic,"  went  on  Mr.  Wenham.  "  There  will  be  no 
collection.  Therefore,  Miss  Perkins  —  knowing  your 
reputation  for  benevolence  — 

"  I  have  no  reputation  for  benevolence,"  was  the 
reply.  "  The  price  of  the  hall  will  be  ten  dollars. 
Now,  look  here,  Mr.  Wenham,  if  you  think  Universal 
Peace  is  worth  ten  dollars  to  you,  rent  my  hall.  If  it 
isn't,  rent  or  borrow  some  other  hall." 

Miss  Perkins  paused,  and  softened  her  voice  a  little. 
Then  she  went  on,  "  1  don't  want  to  seem  harsh  or 
niggardly,  Professor  Wenham.  I  suppose  you're  en 
tirely  sincere  in  holding  this  meeting.  But  it  looks  to 
me  like  vanity  speaking,  and  not  common-sense,  when 
you  go  shouting  about  Universal  Peace  just  now.  Do 
you  want  to  hire  the  hall?  " 

The  professor  looked  dazed  for  a  moment.  Then 
he  slowly  took  a  wallet  from  his  pocket,  removed  a  ten- 


62  KHAKI 

dollar  bill  from  it,  and  laid  it  on  the  desk.  With  the 
key  in  his  hand,  he  sought  the  door;  but  he  turned  to 
remark : 

"  I  had  thought  that  you  were  one  of  us,  Miss  Per 
kins.  I'm  dumbfounded." 

"One  of  you?  I  don't  know  what  you  mean  by 
one  of  you.  If  you  mean  that  I'd  like  to  see  an  end 
to  war  —  all  war,  and  everybody  peaceable  and  mind 
ing  his  own  business,  and  a  spirit  of  common  honesty 
and  decency  all  over  the  universe  —  of  course  I'm  one 
of  you.  But  if  you  mean  that  you  want  to  dodge  all 
the  responsibilities  that  life  is  putting  on  us  —  and  to 
meet  this  crisis  with  prayer  and  petitions  —  I'm  not 
with  you  —  I'm  against  you.  I  want  to  see  fire  fought 
with  fire,  and  a  burglar  fought  with  a  rifle,  and  a  mur 
derer  killed  before  he  murders  innocent  people.  You 
show  me,  professor,  that  there's  no  longer  any  danger 
or  fire  in  the  world,  or  anybody  who  covets  somebody 
else's  goods,  or  anybody  with  murderous  instincts,  and 
I'll  jubilate  with  you.  In  fact,  I'll  donate  my  hall  for 
a  real  bona  fide  Universal  Peace  meeting." 

The  egg-shaped  instructor  of  youth  groped  through 
the  doorway  and  was  gone. 

"  They  make  me  tired,  Greenberg,"  explained  Pru 
dence.  "  Instead  of  whining  about  Universal  Peace, 
they'd  better  be  cleaning  their  muskets,  or  the  first 
thing  they  know  they  won't  be  here  to  talk  about  peace 
or  anything  else." 

Sam  Greenberg  had  been  enjoying  the  colloquy 
hugely.  His  admiration  grew  in  proportion  to  the 
length  of  time  he  was  associated  with  Miss  Perkins. 
Now  he  laughed  and  replied,  with  a  queer,  facetious 
mimicking  of  the  older  generation  of  New  York  Jews, 
"  Oi,  oi,  Miss  Perkins,  what  chance  has  a  poor  inno 
cent  Jew  peddler  got  in  partnership  with  a  fine  busi 
ness  lady  like  you?  " 


KHAKI  63 

It  was  seldom  that  Prudence  Perkins  laughed  out 
right.  But  the  words,  and  particularly  the  tone  of 
lamentation  in  which  they  were  uttered,  made  her  sit 
down  and  shake  with  laughter.  Then,  as  if  ashamed 
of  herself  for  giving  way  to  such  undignified  mirth, 
she  followed  by  looking  unusually  sober  and  severe. 
Her  eyes  fixed  upon  Sam  Greenberg,  and  she  kept  them 
there  while  she  reflected,  silently.  Finally  she  said, 
thoughtfully: 

"  Greenberg,  I  think  we  shall  get  along  very  well. 
You'll  find  that  I  do  just  as  I  say  I  will;  and  if  I 
didn't  think  you  were  honest,  I  wouldn't  go  into  busi 
ness  with  you.  Now,  I've  talked  a  good  deal  today, 
and  I  don't  want  you  to  think  I'm  a  garrulous  old 
woman,  for  I'm  not.  But  I'd  like  to  say  one  thing 
more,  on  the  personal  side,  and  I  hope  you'll  take  it  in 
good  part." 

"  Sure!  "  nodded  Sam. 

"  In  the  first  place,  Greenberg,  there's  a  certain 
freshness  and  flipness  about  you  that  —  it  isn't  exactly 
unpleasant,  because  you're  polite  with  it  all  —  and 
being  new  to  Tredick,  a  little  of  it  will  give  you  a 
personality  here.  I'd  just  suggest  that  you  kind  of 
tone  it  down.  Some  of  the  old  folks  here  wouldn't 
understand  it,  and  you'd  lose  by  it.  But  there's  an 
other  thing  more  important.  I've  often  noticed, 
Greenberg,  that  you  affect  to  sneer  at  your  own  people. 
I  don't  think  you  really  think  badly  of  them  —  I  think 
it's  just  a  kind  of  bravado,  or  something.  Now  I 
don't  know  anything  about  Jews  —  we  never  saw  many 
of  them  here  in  Tredick  —  but  I  imagine  they're  a  good 
deal  like  any  other  people  —  good,  bad,  and  indiffer 
ent.  Personally,  Greenberg,  I  don't  care  whether 
you're  a  Jew  or  a  Turk  or  a  Hottentot,  as  long  as 
you're  square  and  above-board.  But  I  don't  think  you 
can  gain  the  good  opinion  of  anybody  by  making  fun 


64  KHAKI 

of  your  own  people,  or  belittling  them. —  However, 
this  is  none  of  my  business,  and  I'll  say  no  more  about 
it.  Perhaps  I'd  better  have  kept  my  ideas  to  myself." 

Sam  Greenberg  did  not  answer  for  a  long  while. 
He  looked  out  the  window,  drummed  on  the  slide  of 
the  desk  and  twirled  his  watch-chain.  At  first  he  had 
grinned  in  a  rather  superior  way;  but  something  wiped 
the  grin  from  his  face  while  Prudence  was  talking. 
At  last  he  rose  from  the  chair  and  extended  his  hand. 
Miss  Perkins  merely  looked  at  the  hand  for  a  moment, 
not  comprehending  what  was  in  his  mind.  He  said : 

"  I  want  to  thank  you,  Miss  Perkins.  You  did  jolt 
me  a  little.  I'm  sensitive  —  perhaps  that's  at  the  bot 
tom  of  it  all.  A  fellow  that's  sensitive  sometimes 
makes  a  lot  of  fool  talk  to  try  to  hide  it.  I'll  remem 
ber  what  you  said ;  and  I'll  never  forget  the  way  you 
handed  it  to  me,  either. —  I  hope  we'll  do  business  to 
gether.  It'll  be  an  education  for  me." 

"  Pshaw !  "  said  Miss  Perkins,  deprecatingly. 

Nevertheless  she  shook  hands.  Then,  as  if  to  make 
up  for  any  possible  loss  of  prestige,  she  summarily  dis 
missed  the  young  man  from  the  office,  telling  him  to 
take  his  inventory  and  think  it  over. 


VII 

AT  half-past  two  on  Monday  afternoon,  the  second 
day  of  April,  Deacon  Bradshaw  ordered  Tom  Gilstar 
to  close  the  doors  of  Perkins  Hall,  and  to  appease  the 
wrathful  citizens  who  couldn't  get  in,  but  stood  packed 
on  the  stairways  and  formed  a  long  queue  that 
stretched  the  length  of  the  block,  by  telling  them  that 
there  would  be  an  overflow  meeting  on  the  Common, 
immediately  after  the  hall-meeting  was  finished. 

Judging  from  the  crowd,  its  numbers  and  serious 
ness,  there  was  a  well  defined  interest  in  Universal 
Peace,  in  Tredick  and  surrounding  towns.  Nobody 
could  recall  such  a  spontaneous  outpouring  of  people, 
to  a  meeting  whose  appeal  was  purely  mental ;  that  is 
to  say,  where  there  was  no  wheedling  side-issue  of 
acrobats,  Swiss  bell-ringers  or  balloon-and-parachute 
jumping. 

The  fact  that  it  was  a  fine  clear  Spring  day  had 
something,  of  course,  to  do  with  it.  So  did  the  fact 
that  a  half -holiday  had  been  declared,  for  the  school 
children.  But  there  was  something  else  that  clearly 
lay  back  of  the  interest  in  Universal  Peace.  There 
was  none  of  the  gossipy,  giggly  undertone  of  conver 
sation,  common  to  most  mass  meetings.  The  farmers 
had  driven  in,  some  of  them  eight  miles  or  more,  with 
a  sober  purpose  which  was  manifest  on  their  faces. 
There  was  no  possible  doubt  what  was  in  their  minds. 
They  had  come  to  hear  peace  declared.  The  sickening 
revulsion  from  newspaper  horrors,  day  after  day,  was 
ready  now  to  cry  aloud  for  an  end  —  any  end  —  to 
the  slaughter.  That,  no  doubt.  But  something  else, 

65 


66  KHAKI 

which  no  man  or  woman,  and  hardly  a  child  above 
twelve  years  old  had  failed  to  feel  —  a  sense  of  im 
pending  danger,  a  vague  fear  that  somehow  the  Evil 
Thing  was  approaching  Tredick;  that  not  even  those 
high  hills  would  avail  to  keep  it  out.  There  was  no 
question  but  that  Tredick  was  awakening. 

And,  as  you  watched  those  men  and  women,  and 
boys  and  girls  filing  silently  into  the  hall,  you  were 
impressed  by  certain  aspects  of  Tredick  humanity. 
Remember,  that  Tredick's  people  were  of  what  we  call 
"  the  old  stock."  Their  ancestors  were  those  who 
had  battled  with  Indians,  with  the  elements,  with  dis 
ease,  to  keep  their  footing  on  the  new  soil.  It  devel 
oped  a  race  that  was  muscular,  angular,  sharp-voiced 
and  thin.  They  were  sturdy,  self-reliant,  and  cou 
rageous  because  they  had  to  be;  no  others  could  live. 

Now,  here  were  the  same  faces,  in  essential  features ; 
no  mistaking  that.  But  something  had  happened  to 
the  Tredick  physique.  Not  merely  that  the  present 
generation  averaged  a  few  inches  less  in  stature  than 
the  early  one  —  though  as  a  matter  of  fact  it  did  - 
but  it  carried  its  body  in  a  different  way.  The  men 
of  middle  age  walked  as  though  they  were  tired  and 
disappointed  —  and  considerably  overfed.  Far  read 
ier  of  tongue,  and  probably  quicker  of  wits  than  their 
grandfathers,  they  seemed  to  have  added  a  fatal  some 
thing  to  their  waist-lines,  or  their  souls,  or  to  both, 
which  was  sapping  the  old  rugged  self-dependence. 

The  high-school  boys  were  clean  looking  boys.  But 
they  walked  into  the  hall  with  a  slouching  gait,  and 
when  they  sat  down,  they  sprawled.  Foot-ball,  base 
ball,  none  of  the  common  sports  seemed  to  have  had 
the  effect  of  producing  a  pair  of  squared-off  shoulders 
and  a  well-poised  head.  And  curiously  enough  —  no 
body  in  Tredick  ever  commented  on  this  fact. 

However  —  the  meeting  is  ready  to  begin. 


KHAKI  '67 

On  the  platform  sits,  besides  Chairman  Deacon 
Charles  Bradshaw,  the  principal  speaker  of  the  after 
noon,  Prof.  George  Watling  Wenham.  Deacon  Brad 
shaw  and  Professor  Wenham  are  whispering  a  good 
deal  together,  and  making  a  mysterious  display  of  a 
sheaf  of  typewritten  sheets  of  paper,  clipped  together. 
Also,  on  the  platform,  is  Wells  Hardy  in  a  stiff  shirt, 
who  looks  decidedly  as  though  he  ardently  longed  to 
be  in  the  audience;  Fred  Payne,  in  ditto,  who  looks 
ditto;  the  venerable  Samuel  McReady,  pastor  of  the 
Baptist  church;  the  youthful  Rev.  Francis  Hodge 
Petrie,  pastor  of  the  Congregational  church;  also  one 
or  two  estimable  but  lesser  lights  of  Tredick.  You 
would  say  that  this  crew  was,  in  respectability,  fully 
qualified  to  sit  on  this  platform,  or  any  other  platform, 
and  you  would  say  truly. 

In  the  audience,  on  the  left,  we  espy  several  faces 
well  known  to  us.  Mrs.  Gilstar,  Dorothy  Gilstar, 
Tom's  sister,  Antonia  Pillicy  and  Alice  Bradshaw,  all 
in  a  row.  The  white-bearded  little  man  just  back  of 
them,  and  in  company  with  a  buxom  elderly  matron 
with  a  red  face,  is  Henry  Hobgood,  postmaster.  Just 
at  his  right  are  Flarry  Upton  and  Matt  Pillicy.  On 
the  other  side,  not  far  from  the  rear  exit,  sits  Miss 
Prudence  Perkins,  very  quiet,  very  serious,  with  tight 
lips  and  roving,  determined  eyes.  At  the  end  of  that 
same  row  of  seats  is  Sam  Greenberg,  looking  bored 
to  death  when  he  isn't  smiling  sardonically  at  some 
farmer  who  is  clothed  entirely  from  a  catalogue-house 
in  Chicago. 

Following  a  short,  earnest  prayer  by  the  aged  Sam 
uel  McReady  (the  dear  old  man  was  a  million  miles 
distant  in  his  mind  from  any  war,  and  prayed  just  as 
earnestly  for  Tredick's  soul,  as  though  Tredick  wasn't 
at  the  moment  wondering  whether  anything  was  going 
to  happen  to  its  skin),  Deacon  Bradshaw  arose.  He 


68  KHAKI 

regarded  his  fellow  citizens  solemnly  for  half  a  minute 
before  he  spoke.  Then  he  uttered  these  words. 

"  War  is  a  terrible  thing !  " 

It  was  a  sentence  that  admitted  of  no  argument;  it 
found  agreement  in  every  present  heart.  And  for  that 
reason,  and  because  the  deacon  paused  a  long  time  after 
the  utterance,  there  were  many  in  the  audience  who 
were  affected  almost  to  tears.  On  the  platform,  the 
little  semi-circle  shook  their  heads  in  woeful  unison. 
Young  Mr.  Petrie  shook  his  head  less  than  the  others ; 
but,  suddenly  perceiving  that  the  Reverend  McReady 
was  still  shaking  his  head,  Mr.  Petrie  began  to  shake 
his  some  more  —  whether  out  of  respect  for  the  ad 
vanced  age  of  his  companion,  or  because  he  was  un 
willing  to  be  outshaken  by  another  sect,  one  may  guess. 

Having  outlined  the  general  program  of  the  after 
noon,  Deacon  Bradshaw  introduced  Prof.  George  Wat- 
ling  Wenham,  after  specifically  declaring  that  that 
gentleman  needed  no  introduction.  Whereupon,  the 
egg-shaped  figure  of  the  Academy  principal  walked 
forward  upon  the  platform,  and  lifted  a  hand.  There 
was  an  instant  hush. 

Now,  it  isn't  worth  while  to  report  at  any  length 
what  Professor  Wenham  said.  He  spoke  too  long, 
like  most  people  who  speak ;  he  used  too  many  um- 
hahs  to  bracket  his  neatly  rounded  periods;  and  long 
before  he  finished  there  were  many  who  had  a  dis 
turbing,  twitching  sense  that  they  were  buying  Uni 
versal  Peace  at  a  steep  price,  if  the  professor  was  a 
purveyor  of  it.  But  it  is  worth  while  to  note  the  gen 
eral  tenor  of  what  he  had  to  say. 

The  professor  being  an  avowed  Pacifist,  he  felt  it 
necessary  to  absolve  Germany,  as  far  as  possible,  from 
any  special  guilt.  Obviously  this  was  necessary,  be 
cause  the  moment  you  admit  that  Germany,  or  any 
other  country,  had  any  special  blood-guiltiness  or  evil 


KHAKI  69 

intentions,  you  ruin  the  Pacifist  argument,  and  make 
preparation  for  war  an  imperative  duty.  So  Pro 
fessor  Wenham,  like  several  thousand  other  gentle 
men  of  his  kind,  proceeded  to  show  how  diabolical 
every  other  country  had  been,  including  his  own.  He 
spoke  of  the  abominable  treatment  of  the  Indians;  he 
spoke  of  "  a  damnable  unjust  war  with  Mexico  "  and 
of  "  a  capitalistic  war  to  despoil  Spain."  He  did  not 
speak  of  the  fact  that,  in  later  years,  bad  though  his 
American  people  might  be,  they  had  been  trying  to  do 
the  square  thing  by  the  Indians,  had  tried  to  treat 
Mexico  in  an  idealistic  way ;  had  been  the  only  country 
to  put  forth  a  helping  hand  to  China;  had  blundered 
along,  as  a  great  mass  of  people  must  blunder  along, 
trying  to  be  fair,  and  generous  and  clean. 

Of  the  horrors  committed  in  Belgium  and  Northern 
France,  the  professor  said  only  that  they  were  the 
usual  accompaniment  of  war  —  and  in  this  he  lied  — 
though  he  may  not  have  meant  to  lie  —  for  so  acted 
never  an  American  regiment  in  warring  upon  a  civi 
lized  and  defenseless  people. 

Of  the  "capitalists"-  -those  who  are  supposed  to 
force  all  wars  for  their  profit  and  sport  —  the  pro 
fessor  spoke  at  length  and  scathingly.  He  did  not 
explain  how  men  of  wealth  could  enjoy  a  war  which 
only  destroyed  wealth. 

Of  soldiers,  the  professor  had  a  contempt  and  a  hate. 
He  said  they  were  simply  hired  assassins,  because  there 
never  was  a  just  war.  With  this  airy  indictment,  he 
dismissed  the  Revolution,  the  War  of  1812  and  the 
Civil  War,  not  to  speak  of  the  wars  that  achieved 
Magna  Charta,  and  the  French  Revolution. 

Enough !  The  idea  was  simple.  "  We  have  here 
to-day,"  said  the  professor,  "  a  document  which  I  shall 
hereafter  read."  And  it  was  thereafter  read. 

And  there  sat  Tredick,  uneasy  Tredick,  poor,  won- 


70  KHAKI 

dering,  dizzy  Tredick,  listening,  striving  to  believe, 
trying  to  put  away  reason  and  the  sense  of  honor, 
trying  to  believe  in  a  Peace  which  no  longer  could 
exist,  because  a  warlike  and  conquering  country  had 
made  it  impossible  to  exist.  There  sat  poor  Tredick, 
listening  to  the  words  of  an  egg-shaped  man  who  was 
telling  it  what  it  wanted  to  hear,  and  was  secretly 
ashamed  of  wanting  to  hear! 

There  was  no  applause ;  no  enthusiasm ;  it  was  fune 
real.  It  was  a  meeting  of  people  who  wanted  Univer 
sal  Peace,  because  they  wanted  peace  in  Tredick. 

There,  in  Perkins  Hall,  spoke  an  egg-shaped  man, 
with  a  sharp  nose,  a  verb-hunting  nose,  telling  seven 
hundred  people  that  they  had  no  honor  worth  defend 
ing;  that  they  had  no  right  to  the  use  of  the  seas,  if 
that  right  were  denied  by  a  stronger  people ;  that  they 
had  never  had  any  honor  worth  defending,  and  that 
their  fathers  had  stained  their  hands  in  the  blood  of 
innocents;  that  the  finest  thing  in  the  world  is  peace, 
no  matter  how  it  is  obtained,  no  matter  how  impotent 
and  flabby  and  soulless  it  may  render  the  possessor. 

And  to  this  end  Tredick  was  asked  to  subscribe  to 
the  ensuing  declaration,  a  Declaration  of  Peace,  which 
Professor  Wenham  with  tremendous  appreciation  (it 
was  his  own  production)  now  read: 

"  WHEREAS,  most  of  the  countries  of  Europe  are 
involved  in  a  bloody  and  terrible  war,  which  we  believe 
to  have  been  avoidable  but  for  the  machinations  of 
kings  and  militarists  and  the  sowing  of  seeds  of  hate 
among  various  peoples ;  and, 

"  WHEREAS,  the  danger  of  the  United  States  being 
drawn  into  this  conflict  seems  to  grow  greater  every 
day,  with  each  new  event ;  and 

"  WHEREAS,  we,  the  people  of  Tredick,  in  mass- 
meeting  assembled,  believe  it  to  be  the  duty  of  the 


KHAKI  71 

United  States,  to  its  own  citizens  and  the  cause  of  Uni 
versal  Brotherhood,  not  to  become  involved  in  this 
war:  therefore  be  it 

"  RESOLVED,  that  it  is  the  spirit  of  this  meeting  that 
our  country  should  be  kept  out  of  the  War  at  all  costs, 
even  at  the  expense  of  foregoing  any  and  all  rights  we 
may  have  as  a  sovereign  people  (inasmuch  as  we  can 
assume  these  rights  again  after  the  war),  and  that  we 
do  nothing  from  this  time  forth  that  could  possibly 
bring  us  into  conflict  with  any  foreign  country,  and 
that  we  propose  our  willingness  to  submit  any  question 
to  arbitration,  and  that  we  do  not  prepare  in  any  way 
for  war,  because  preparation  for  war  will  lead  to  war, 
and  that  we  take  any  and  all  other  measures  to  avoid 
war;  and  be  it  further 

"  RESOLVED,  that  a  copy  of  this  Declaration  of  Peace 
by  the  people  of  Tredick  be  sent  to  the  President  of 
the  United  States  and  to  all  members  of  Congress, 
asking  them  to  do  all  in  their  power  to  keep  the  United 
States  from  the  horrors  of  war. 

(Signed  by  the  manhood  and  womanhood  of  Tre 
dick.)  April  2,  1917." 

Following  the  reading  of  this  remarkable  declara 
tion  there  was  a  dull  silence.  A  few  hands  were 
clapped;  there  was  an  animated  whispering.  But 
whatever  affirmation  there  was,  was  cold  and  reserved. 
For,  even  though  they  craved  peace,  there  was  a  subtle 
sense  of  shame  sitting  heavily  upon  Tredick's  soul. 
They  would  subscribe  to  this  enslavement,  but  they 
could  not  be  happy  in  doing  so ! 

"  I  am  going  to  ask  all  those  who  favor  this  declara 
tion  to  raise—  '  began  Professor  Wenham.  But  he 
was  interrupted. 

"  I  want  that  read  again,  slowly  and  clearly !  "  cried 
a  voice  from  the  back  of  the  hall.  Every  pair  of  eyes 


72  KHAKI 

turned  to  the  place  whence  that  voice  came.  And 
they  saw,  standing,  her  eyes  glistening  with  suppressed 
passion,  her  pale,  thin  cheeks  flushed,  her  hand  uncon 
sciously  outstretched  toward  the  platform,  Miss  Pru 
dence  Perkins. 

Professor  Wenham  glanced  toward  the  figure,  and 
his  face  showed  clear  annoyance.  Nevertheless,  he 
could  scarcely  find  reason  for  not  complying  with  the 
request.  He  read  the  resolutions  once  more.  Then 
added,  addressing  Prudence  in  a  smooth  tone,  "  I  trust 
our  worthy  friend  does  not  object  to  the  phraseology 
of  this  —  um-hah  —  document?  " 

She  paid  no  attention  to  him.  Instead,  she  swept 
her  hand  around,  pointing  from  one  side  of  the  hall  to 
the  other,  and  choked  out : 

"Do  you  understand,  folks?  Do  you  understand 
what  that  all  means?  Are  you  going  to  put  up  your 
hands  and  consent  to  a  cowardly,  miserable  document 
like  that,  going  out  of  here  as  the  belief  and  the  pur 
pose  of  this  town  ?  Are  you  so  anxious  for  peace 
that  you're  willing  to  grovel  in  the  dirt  to  get  it?  Do 
you  want  to  give  up  every  right  you  have  in  the  world 
for  the  sake  of  living  your  little  sleek,  self-satisfied 
lives  until  they  plant  you  up  in  the  church  grave 
yard?  Maybe  you  think  that  you  can  give  up  your 
rights  in  a  crisis  like  this,  and  then  get  them  back 
again  when  it  all  blows  over.  You're  mistaken,  folks ! 
You  can't  do  it.  Let  me  tell  you  something :  down  on 
the  corner  of  Parker  street,  I've  got  a  vacant  lot. 
There's  a  path  across  it,  and  Henry  Moorhead  used 
that  path  to  get  back  and  forth  from  his  house.  That's 
what  they  call  in  law,  an  '  easement.'  Henry  had 
used  that  road  for  years,  and  I  can't  stop  him  now, 
even  if  I  want  to.  But  just  let  Henry  give  up  that 
right  for  a  while,  and  he'll  never  get  it  back  again. 


KHAKI  73 

Ah-hah,  Henry,  you  know  that  well  enough,  don't 
you?"  said  Prudence,  pointing  at  Mr.  Moorhead,  not 
far  away.  "  Well,  you  give  up  any  right,  and  see 
whether  you  get  it  back  again  —  without  fighting  for 
it!" 

The  crowd  was  watching  the  woman  curiously,  won- 
deringly.  Something  told  them  that  she  had  hold  of  a 
fundamental  truth  —  and  yet,  Tredick  wanted  peace  — 
ah,  so  badly !  It  had  built  a  little  quiet  nest  for  itself, 
and  it  was,  ah,  so  happy  in  it !  Miss  Perkins  was  tell 
ing  them  the  truth,  perhaps  —  but  Professor  Wenham 
was  telling  them  what  they  wanted  to  be  true.  It  was 
so  much  nicer  to  be  at  peace  with  everybody ! 

"  Perhaps  I  can  explain  to  Miss  Perkins,"  said  the 
egg-shaped  man,  rubbing  his  hands  with  that  peculiar 
pleasure  of  a  man  who  is  about  to  say  the  final,  crush 
ing,  all-inclusive  thing.  "  We  understand,  Miss  Per 
kins,  that  if  this  country  —  our  very  soil  —  should  be 
invaded,  we  should  all  fly  to  arms  as  one  man.  Then, 
of  course,  we  would  make  the  invader  feel  the  force 
of  our  arms,  we  would  show  then  what  a  loyal  people 
can  do  in  self-defense.  We  — 

"  Would  you,  now  ?  "  asked  the  spinster.  "  I  want 
to  know,  professor!  I'd  really  like  to  be  there  to  see 
you  leading  this  mighty  army  of  Tredick,  armed  with 
scythes,  revolutionary  muskets  and  tin  horns !  Do  you 
know,  sir,  that  in  the  Revolutionary  War,  they  had  to 
threaten  the  loyal  self-defenders  —  the  militia  —  with 
shooting  in  the  back,  to  keep  them  from  running  away 
from  the  British  and  Hessians?  Read  what  George 
Washington  wrote  about  them !  Do  you  know,  Pro 
fessor  Wenham,  that  in  the  War  of  1812,  those  same 
fellows  that  flew  to  arms,  as  you  say,  ran  like  rabbits, 
when  they  outnumbered  the  British  near  Washington  ? 
If  you  don't  know,  you'd  better  find  out,  sir.  No, 


74  KHAKI 

professor,  all  you'd  be  good  for  in  a  case  like  that, 
would  be  as  a  target.  Or  they  might  use  you  to  wave 
the  white  flag!  " 

"  You  insult  me !  "  gasped  the  man  on  the  platform, 
glowing  like  fire,  in  the  face. 

"I  —  I  didn't  mean  to.  I  beg  your  pardon  —  really 
I  do,"  replied  Miss  Perkins,  quickly.  "  No,  professor, 
I  think  you'd  be  as  brave  —  and  as  useless  —  as  any 
of  the  rest  of  them,  if  trouble  came  to  us.  I  didn't 
mean  to  insult  you.  But  perhaps  you  don't  know,  sir, 
that  you  when  you  wrote  that  set  of  resolutions,  you 
insulted  every  decent-hearted  American  that  ever  drew 
the  breath  of  life!  And,  sir,  I  do  mean  that!  " 

But  the  apology  failed  to  appease  the  man  on  the 
platform.  He  was  deeply  wounded.  Furthermore, 
the  meeting  was  on  the  verge  of  disaster  —  he  could 
see  that.  The  people  were  stretching  their  necks ;  that 
innate  love  of  a  fight  was  seeping  through  to  the  sur 
face;  and  the  Universal  Peace  advocates  were  facing 
that  distressingly  comic  event  which  has  so  often  taken 
place  —  a  peace  meeting  ending  in  a  row.  Something 
had  to  be  done  at  once,  to  shut  off  this  obstructor.  In 
a  voice  that  fairly  oozed  with  sarcasm,  the  professor 
looked  straight  at  Miss  Perkins  and  said : 

"  I  think  we  all  love  and  honor  the  good  sister  who 
had  just  spoken;  and  I  think  we  all  understand  the 
reason  she  takes  the  stand  she  does.  She  would  no 
doubt  feel  far  differently  if  she  had  a  son,  of  military 
age,  to  be  taken  and  swept  into  this  horrible  welter  of 
blood  and  corpses." 

At  the  words,  the  breath  seemed  to  go  out  of  the 
body  of  the  thin,  pale  woman  who  was  still  standing 
in  her  place.  She  winced  as  though  a  brutal  hand  had 
smitten  her  in  the  face.  Some  of  those  around  her 
heard  her  utter  a  plaintive  little  "  oh !  "  —  and  they  saw 
her  tremble,  and  swallow  convulsively.  She  wavered, 


KHAKI  75 

unsteadily,  for  a  moment;  tried  to  smile;  swept  the 
back  of  her  gloved  hand  across  her  eyes  swiftly. 
Then,  in  a  low,  unsteady  voice,  she  replied : 

"  Yes ;  it  is  true  —  I  have  no  son  —  to  give.  It  is 
true —  I  have  never  known  the  joys  of  motherhood  — 
you  need  not  be  disquieted,  Professor  Wenham  —  you 
haven't  hurt  my  feelings  any  more  —  than  Life  has 
hurt  my  —  heart.  You  couldn't  be  expected  to  know 
that  —  a  woman  —  though  she  never  may  have  a  child 
—  to  give  to  her  country  —  is  still  —  down  deep  — 
somewhere  —  a  mother  —  with  the  feelings  of  a 
mother.  She  knows  something  of  what  that  feeling 
is  —  she  pours  forth  some  of  that  feeling  on  —  other 
women's  children — or  even  a  dog  —  or  even  a  cat  — 
or  she  may  even  have  a  country  she  loves.  Yes;  Pro 
fessor  Wenham  —  even  that. 

"  But  —  you  are  right.  I  have  no  son  —  of  mili 
tary  age.  I  have  nothing  but  myself  —  a  poor,  un 
happy  old  woman  who  has  nothing  to  look  forward  to 
except  making  money  and  more  money.  I  have  no 
right  to  speak.  I'll  not  say  any  more. — •  But,  thank 
God,  /  have  something  to  give!  You  don't  know  what 
you've  done  for  me,  Professor  Wenham !  I  can  never 
thank  you  enough.  You've  —  given  back  my  soul  — 
it  was  nearly  dead  —  like  yours  —  like  Tredick's !  I 
see  it  clearly  now.  I  — " 

Prudence  Perkins,  tall,  thin,  angular,  sallow  of 
cheek,  stood  there  a  moment.  Her  hands  were  clasped 
in  front  of  her.  Two  great  wet  places  glistened  on 
her  cheeks.  But,  upon  her  face  and  in  her  eyes,  there 
shone  a  sunlight  of  sheer  joy,  something  unworldly, 
beyond  words,  that  none  in  that  audience  had  ever  seen 
on  any  face,  unless  upon  the  face  of  a  mother,  with  a 
little  speck  of  humanity  cuddled  to  her  breast. 

There  was  not  a  word.  Slowly,  even  with  a  little 
"  Pardon  me,  please !  "  to  those  whom  she  had  to  dis- 


76  KHAKI 

turb,  to  gain  the  aisle,  the  old  woman  walked  out  of 
the  hall  with  vigorous  steps  and  her  head  thrown  back. 
The  people  looked  at  one  another.  On  the  platform 
Deacon  Bradshaw  tugged  at  Wenham's  coat,  and  whis 
pered  something  to  him.  But  the  first  words  that  were 
uttered  came  from  a  young  fellow  who  had  been  sit 
ting  in  the  same  row  with  Miss  Perkins  —  and  who 
now  rose.  He  said,  in  what  he  meant  to  be  an  under 
tone  to  his  neighbor,  but  which  smote  every  ear  in  the 
hall,  "  That's  good  enough  for  me.  To  hell  with  Uni 
versal  Peace !  " 

Only  three  or  four  persons  recognized  the  speaker, 
he  was  gone  so  quickly.  It  was  Sam  Greenberg. 

A  few  men  in  the  back  rows  sneaked  out,  probably 
without  any  more  definite  notion  than  that  they  were 
afraid  the  meeting  was  going  to  be  a  failure,  and  they 
didn't  want  to  be  identified  with  it. 

But  Prof.  George  Watling  Wenham  was  equal  to 
the  occasion.  He  cried,  "  My  friends,  we  forgive 
Sister  Perkins  freely.  She  was  excited,  possibly  hys 
terical.  But  the  purpose  of  this  meeting  is  to  pass 
resolutions  of  peace.  Do  you  want  war  or  do  you 
want  peace?  Do  you  want  WAR  or  do  you  want 
PEACE?  Now  is  the  time  to  speak.  The  chamber 
of  horrors  is  yawning  for  your  young  men  —  cannon- 
fodder —  victims  of  blood-lust!  Are  you  going  to 
declare  for  bloodshed,  or  for  the  white  dove  of  brother 
hood  ?  Now  is  the  time  to  speak !  All  those  in  favor 
of  the  declaration  you  have  heard  read,  hold  up  your 
right  hands.  Up!  Higher.  So  we  can  count  'em! '' 

Hands  went  up.  But  there  was  another  slight  in 
terruption.  Joe  Capodilupo,  the  Italian  cobbler,  had 
a  question.  Joe  was  only  twenty-two  years  old,  but 
with  a  keenness  to  gain  knowledge.  "  It's-a  all-arighta, 
professore,"  he  cried,  "  but  dat  lady  just  a-spoke,  I 
t'ink  she  meant-a  somet'ing  lika  dis ;  you  may  be  a  fina 


KHAKI  77 

fella,  all  righta,  want  to  maka  dis  peace,  but  how  about 
de  odder  fella?  S'pose  he  coma  to  knocka  your  block 
off?  How  you  going  hava  peace  if  odder  fella 
knock-a  your  block,  hey  ?  " 

"  Sit  down,  Joe!  "  shouted  somebody,  and  Joe,  em 
barrassed,  sat  down.  Not  before  Professor  Wenham, 
however,  had  cast  a  withering  look  of  contempt  at 
him. 

"  All  those  opposed  to  these  resolutions !  "  shouted 
the  professor. 

And  not  a  hand  went  up !  Not  one  hand  in  Tredick 
went  up.  It  may  be  that  there  were  hands  that  would 
have  liked  to  go  up  —  it  may  be.  Then  they  must 
have  been  faltering,  hedging  hands,  that  never  do  go 
up  except  with  the  majority.  Up  in  the  church  grave 
yard,  there  must  have  been  a  turning  of  bones.  For 
there  were  buried  in  Tredick  graveyard  at  least  two 
men  who  had  sailed  the  seas  under  the  American  cap 
tains  who  made  the  seas  safe  for  Americans,  in  long 
years  past. 

"The  resolutions  are  carried  unanimously!"  an 
nounced  Professor  Wenham,  with  an  expansive  smile. 
'  Tredick,  at  least,  has  made  its  Declaration  of  Peace. 
Tredick  holds  out  a  hand  of  brotherhood  to  the  na 
tions  !  Now;  please,  all  come  to  the  platform  and  sign 
these  petitions  to  the  President  and  the  Congress !  " 

Well,  there  was  nothing  worse  that  Tredick  could 
do;  so  they  did  that.  Not  with  any  joy  out  of  that 
passionate  desire  —  not  for  peace,  for  there  was  no 
peace,  and  they  knew  it  —  but  to  bring  back  the  peace 
that  was  —  that  sleepy  peace  of  self-content  that  was 
Tredick  —  they  signed  their  names. 

It  was  the  second  day  of  April,  1917.  On  the  same 
day,  at  almost  the  same  hour,  that  Tredick  was  making 
its  Declaration  of  Peace,  the  President  of  the  United 


78  KHAKI 

States  appeared  before  the  American  Congress,  and 
asked  for  a  declaration  of  war  against  the  Imperial 
German  Government. 


VIII 

"  WE  are  at  war !  "  gasped  Tredick  —  and  then 
began  to  pinch  itself,  so  to  speak,  to  come  to  a  better 
realization  of  what  War  would  mean  to  Tredick.  The 
news  that  a  state  of  war  had  been  declared  did  not 
surprise  Tredick.  It  rather  annoyed  Tredick;  it  rather 
scared  Tredick ;  it  certainly  dazed  Tredick  —  but  there 
was  no  genuine  feeling  of  surprise.  How  could  there 
be?  Tredick,  sleepy  as  it  was,  had  ordinary  intelli 
gence;  and  when  Tredick  really  had  to  think,  it  could 
think.  So  Tredick  had  known  all  along,  in  that  deep- 
set  nerve  of  understanding  which  every  human  being 
possesses,  that  war  would  come.  Tredick  talked 
peace ;  but  it  knew  better.  In  its  own  narrow  experi 
ence,  it  knew  that  when  there  was  a  murderer,  or  a 
band  of  murderers  at  large,  it  was  useless  to  talk 
peace  till  either  Murder  or  Justice  held  the  field,  un 
challenged  by  the  other. 

Tredick  talked  no  more  of  Universal  Peace  after 
the  second  of  April.  In  fact,  in  those  first  days  of 
April,  Tredick  assumed  a  very  patriotic  attitude. 
"  We  thought  Peace  best,"  said  Tredick,  "  but  our 
President  has  spoken  for  War.  We  are  Americans. 
We  obey  our  superiors.  Woe  to  the  enemy !  Let  the 
enemy  beware  of  America's  legions !  " 

It  did  not  occur  to  Tredick  that  America  had  no 
legions  —  that  America's  legions  were  yet  on  paper,  as 
were  her  guns,  and  her  merchant  ships,  and  nearly 
everything  else  that  was  necessary  to  carry  woe  to  any 
enemy.  But  more  important,  it  did  not  occur  to 
Tredick  that  Tredick  would  have  much  to  do,  anyway, 

79 


80  KHAKI 

in  the  matter.  Tredick  said  Tredick  was  patriotic ; 
Tredick  would  certainly  wish  the  United  States  well  in 
any  venture.  And  Tredick  expressed  the  generous 
hope  that  it  would  soon  be  over.  Having  made  these 
patriotic  concessions,  Tredick  settled  down  to  go  to 
sleep  again. 

"There'll  be  something  coming  to  the  Germans!" 
said  Wells  Hardy,  coming  down  to  his  Cash  Market 
on  the  morning  of  April  3,  to  find  out  that  it  looked 
just  the  same  as  when  he  had  locked  up  the  night  be 
fore.  And  then  Wells  Hardy  immersed  himself  in  the 
knotty  problem  of  how  to  collect  a  bill  from  a  person 
who  really  had  no  money. 

Harry  Upton  owned  the  harness-shop,  by  the  bridge. 
Harry  said,  with  great  enthusiasm,  "  Wait  till  Amer 
ica  gets  going.  She'll  show  'em."  And  therefore, 
confident  that  America  would  take  care  of  everything, 
Harry  devoted  all  his  time,  as  usual,  to  showing  a 
balance  on  the  right  side  of  the  ledger,  and  buying 
hides  to  store  against  higher  prices. 

Deacon  Bradshaw  was  hurt,  deeply  hurt,  at  the  pre 
cipitate  action  of  the  government.  The  Government 
at  Washington  had  not  given  Tredick's  Declaration  of 
Peace  a  chance  to  arrive.  In  a  quiet  private  talk  with 
Professor  Wenham,  the  two  gentlemen  agreed  that 
America  was  making  a  huge  mistake  —  but  they  also 
agreed  that  it  was  no  use  to  do  anything  about  it  now, 
and  that  it  behooved  all  good  citizens  to  support  the 
Government.  Having  declared  his  loyalty  thus,  the 
deacon  devoted  all  his  time  to  the  intricacies  of  the  dry- 
goods  business,  as  he  had  bought  and  reopened  the 
Williams  Dry-Goods  Store ;  and  Professor  Wenham 
went  into  a  sort  of  intellectual  ambush,  from  which, 
now  and  again,  he  sniped  a  little  in  the  interest  of  Uni 
versal  Brotherhood,  with  a  sort  of  smokeless  powder 
which  did  not  betray  his  position.  You  will  recall 


KHAKI  81 

that  nearly  all  the  pacifists  did  this  —  and  continue 
to  do  it. 

Yes;  it  was  hard  to  believe,  after  all,  that  the  United 
States  was  at  war.  The  trains  arrived  just  as  late, 
but  not  later,  than  usual ;  the  clock  in  the  woolen  mill 
struck  the  hours  just  the  same;  and  the  steeple  on  the 
Congregational  Church  leaned  nor-nor'west,  as  it  al 
ways  had.  Those  big  hills  around  Tredick  loomed 
just  as  protecting  as  ever.  Out  in  Tredick  fields  you 
could  hear  the  first  venturesome  bees  zooning  over  the 
first  eager  flowers  —  no  sound  of  cannon,  no  bugles, 
no  rattle  of  small-arms.  Was  this  really  war? 

The  draft  bill  was  passed  by  Congress.  "  Conscrip 
tion  "  -  the  ugly  word,  the  sound  of  which  had  caused 
riots  sixty  years  before  —  settled  placidly  down  upon 
a  placid  country,  and  woke  Tredick  up  for  a  while. 
But  the  mere  word  "  conscription  "  did  not  seem  to 
be  very  dangerous,  so  Tredick  fell  dozing  again. 

Then  the  Government  asked  for  seven  billions  of 
dollars,  with  which  to  conduct  the  war  —  a  little  while. 
Tredick  was  dazzled  by  the  sum,  but  as  it  is  no  harder 
to  visualize  seven  billions  than  one  billion,  Tredick  was 
not  unduly  impressed.  But  when  the  first  Liberty 
Loan  was  actually  to  be  floated,  Tredick  began  to  sit  up 
and  look  about.  The  War  was  becoming  serious. 

Prudence  Perkins  walked  into  the  Bank  one  morn 
ing  in  May  and  called  Harold  Stenner,  the  managing 
cashier,  aside.  "  I  suppose  you  are  going  to  push  that 
loan  as  hard  as  you  can,"  she  said. 

"  Why,  the  government  asks  us  to,  and  I  want  to  do 
what  I  can,"  replied  Stenner,  who  was  a  bright,  ener 
getic  young  fellow.  "  You  were  at  the  stockholders' 
meeting,  Miss  Perkins,  and  you  know  what  the  bank 
itself  plans  to  take.  But,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  can't 
get  up  much  interest  among  the  merchants.  I've 
talked  it  over  a  good  deal.  Deacon  Bradshaw  —  well, 


82  KHAKI 

I've  no  right  to  say  anything  —  but  you  heard  what 
he  said  at  the  stockholders'  meeting.  He  said  he  per 
sonally  wouldn't  go  down  for  a  cent's  worth.  He  said 
he  wasn't  going  to  take  money  that  he  could  get  five 
and  six  per  cent,  for,  and  put  it  out  at  three  and  a 
half." 

"  I  guess  I'd  better  go  right  over  and  see  him  now," 
said  Prudence.  She  found  him  in  the  rear  of  the 
dry-goods  store. 

The  deacon  looked  up  mournfully,  and  his  face  be 
came  more  mournful  and  injured  as  he  saw  who  it 
was.  Before  Prudence  could  tell  her  errand,  he 
moaned,  "  It's  terrible,  terrible !  What  have  I  done ! 
I  knew  I  shouldn't  have  done  it.  I  had  no  right  fool 
ing  with  such  a  store,  anyway !  " 

"  What  are  you  talking  about,  anyway  ?  "  asked  Pru 
dence,  who  knew  well  enough. 

The  deacon  pointed  miserably  across  the  street  to 
ward  the  Perkins  Block.  "  Look  over  there  —  you 
know  well  enough  —  you  rented  to  him  !  "  groaned  Mr. 
Bradshaw.  "  Greenberg  has  started  a  dry  goods  store 
over  in  your  block.  And  you  advised  me  to  buy  this 
place!  You  advised  me  to!  And  I  said  I  wouldn't 
touch  it  except  for  the  good  will,  and  no  opposition!  " 

"Advised  you  to  buy  this  store!  I  did  nothing  of 
the  kind,  Charles  Bradshaw,"  was  the  reply. 

"You  said  —  well,  you  said  if  you  acted  on  your 
impulse,  you'd  buy  it.  Those  were  your  words,  Pru 
dence.  I  trusted  you." 

"  Well,  I  did  say  that,"  admitted  Prudence,  with  a 
smile  that  couldn't  be  suppressed.  "  But  /  never  act 
on  impulses.  You  ought  to  have  known  that." 

The  deacon  looked  at  her  with  sharp  suspicion.  He 
hoarsed  out,  "  You  had  rented  it  to  that  Jew  at  the 
time." 

"  No,  I  hadn't  —  honestly,"  replied  the  old  woman. 


KHAKI  83 

She  gazed  upon  the  shrinking,  discomfited  figure  with 
contempt  —  and  yet,  now,  in  her  glance  there  was 
something  of  kindliness  that  was  new  to  her.  "  Cheer 
up,  Charles !  "  said  Prudence,  suddenly,  patting  the 
man  on  the  shoulder.  "  I  don't  believe  for  a  minute 
there  isn't  room  for  two  good  stores  here.  Don't  get 
down  in  the  mouth  too  soon.  Don't  cry  before  you're 
hurt. —  Come,  Charles,  we're  in  the  midst  of  bigger 
things  than  dry-goods  stores.  What's  a  dry-goods 
store  —  what  are  you  —  what  am  I  —  in  times  like 
this?  Do  you  know  what  I'm  doing?  I'm  out  work 
ing  for  the  Liberty  Loan.  I'm  over  here,  Charles,  to 
get  your  promise  — 

"  No,  no,  I  can't  do  it !  "  the  man  panted,  as  though 
he  were  being  pursued.  "I  —  I  can't.  This  loss,  in 
this  store  —  I  know  I  can't  make  it  go  —  I  feel  it  — 
only  for  that,  maybe,  I'd  put  in  a  few  hundred  — 

"A  few  hundred!"  cried  the  spinster,  scornfully. 
"  A  few  hundred !  You  ought  to  be  ashamed,  Charles 
Bradshaw  -  She  stopped  suddenly,  with  tight  lips, 
as  though  she  had  resolved  newly  against  bitterness. 
In  a  gentler  tone  she  added,  "  Well,  Charles,  I  suppose 
it's  as  one  sees  it.  Perhaps,  later  you'll  see  reasons 
for  changing  your  mind." 

With  that,  Prudence  went  over  to  Wells  Hardy. 
He  was  trimming  meat  when  she  came  in.  He  laid 
down  his  knife  respectfully  and  put  his  hands  akimbo. 
"  Wells,"  began  Miss  Perkins,  "  I  ran  in  just  to  talk 
with  you  about  the  Liberty  Loan  — "  She  got  no  far 
ther. 

"  Oh,  good  Lord !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Hardy,  with  an 
air  of  resignation,  "  don't  pester  me  any  more  about 
that,  please,  Miss  Perkins.  Stenner  was  in  yesterday. 
I  simply  can't  do  it.  I'm  all  tied  up  —  a  lot  of  money 
out  —  bad  bills  —  you  know  it  isn't  all  velvet. — 

"  Yes,   I   know   that,   Wells,"   she   replied.     "  But, 


84  KHAKI 

Wells,  this  isn't  something  in  the  regular  line  of  busi 
ness.  This  isn't  something  you  would  do  because  it 
gets  the  most  money.  Wells,  this  is  a  time  for  sacri 
fice,  isn't  it?  You  know  the  Government  has  got  to 
get  the  money.  We  can't  send  an  army  to  Europe 
and  leave  the  boys  in  the  lurch.  How  will  you  feel, 
when  Herbert,  over  there,  is  fighting - 

Prudence  had  gestured  slightly  toward  a  strapping, 
healthy  young  fellow  at  the  back  of  the  store.  It  was 
Hardy's  son. 

The  hands  came  down  from  Wells  Hardy's  hips. 
Something  like  terror  came  into  his  eyes,  and  he  paled 
visibly.  "  You  —  don't  mean  —  "  he  began.  Then  he 
laughed;  but  it  was  a  frightened  attempt  at  laughter, 
still.  "  They  can't  take  —  they  wouldn't  take  Herbie," 
he  said,  with  a  catch  in  his  throat.  "I  —  I  couldn't 
get  along  without  Herbie,  here  in  the  store.  Oh,  no,  I 
really  couldn't  let  Herbie  go.  Besides,"  and  now  Mr. 
Hardy  was  beginning  to  win  back  his  self-possession, 
"  besides,  there  are  millions  of  young  fellows  in  the 
country  who  —  aren't  needed,  you  know."  Then  the 
butcher  added,  as  a  clincher,  "  Besides,  I  know  Herbie 
looks  well  and  strong,  but  maybe  you  remember  we 
had  a  hard  time  to  raise  him,  when  he  was  a  baby. 
He  has  his  off-days,  even  now." 

Miss  Perkins  glanced  grimly  at  Herbie,  the  young 
man  who  had  his  "  off-days  "  and  therefore  would  stay 
at  home  in  Tredick.  A  few  days  before,  being  told 
that  about  the  healthy  young  animal  before  her,  she 
would  have  rallied  Hardy  unmercifully,  with  all  the 
venom  of  her  well-known  repartee.  Now,  she  merely 
shrugged  her  shoulders,  made  a  brief  comment  on  the 
weather,  and  walked  out. 

Everywhere  she  went  it  was  the  same,  or  practically 
the  same.  That  the  bond  issue  was  not  going  to  be 


KHAKI  85 

very  heavily  subscribed  in  Tredick  was  a  certainty 
But,  more  important,  it  was  obvious  that  Tredick, 
though  it  declared  itself  heart  and  soul  with  the  United 
States,  had  not  the  slightest  idea  that  the  war  was 
going  to  change  its  own  accustomed  ways.  In  fact, 
some  reassuring  soul  —  possibly  Prof.  George  Wat- 
ling  Wenharn  —  had  already  circulated  the  story  that 
long  before  the  draft  ever  got  around  Tredick  the 
government  would  have  a  million  more  men  than  it 
knew  what  to  do  with. 

But  there  was  still  another  thing  lacking;  the  great 
est  thing  of  all;  and  with  her  discovery  of  the  want  of 
it,  Prudence  Perkins  felt  more  utterly  miserable  than 
she  had  ever  felt  in  her  whole  life.  It  was  the  lack  of 
a  spirit  of  service,  of  self-sacrifice  —  and  of  vision. 

The  old  woman  (she  did  not  seem  to  be  an  old 
woman,  as  she  trod  so  firmly  and  vigorously  along  the 
road  —  but  she  called  herself  old)  stood  for  a  long 
time  in  front  of  the  hallway  that  led  upstairs  to  her 
office  in  the  Block.  She  looked  at  the  cleanly  washed, 
tastefully  dressed  windows  of  the  Fifth  Avenue  Store 
-  her  own  and  Greenberg's  —  and  she  marked  the 
number  of  persons  who  were  coming  into  their  store. 
It  was  a  success  —  there  was  no  doubt  of  it!  But  she 
was  not  elated.  She  looked  diagonally  across  the 
Main  street  at  the  shabby,  old-fashioned  store  which 
now  belonged  to  Deacon  Bradshaw.  The  old  sign, 
"  Williams'  Dry-Goods  Store "  still  hung  over  the 
door.  She  couldn't  help  a  little  feeling  of  satisfac 
tion  and  triumph  as  she  looked  at  first  her  store  and 
then  the  other.  But  that  feeling  was  short-lived.  She 
turned  wearily  and  went  upstairs. 

Once  in  her  office,  Miss  Perkins  lifted  the  telephone 
receiver.  She  got  Sam  Greenberg  on  the  other  end, 
and  asked  him  to  come  upstairs  at  once.  Prudence 


86  KHAKI 

was  not  known  to  be  identified  with  the  Fifth  Avenue 
Store,  and  only  once  had  she  set  foot  inside,  since  the 
opening. 

A  few  minutes  later  the  door  opened  and  Sam 
stepped  in.  His  face  was  radiant  with  pleasure. 
"  Say,  Miss  Perkins,"  he  said,  "  everything  is  going 
great !  We've  had  more  trade  than  all  the  rest  of  the 
town  put  together.  Of  course,  I  know  we're  new, 
and  that  helps,  but  they'll  never  get  by  our  windows. 
Have  you  seen  the  left-hand  window?  I  want  to  get 
a  classy  model  —  I  can  pick  up  a  second-hand  wax  — 

Miss  Perkins  smiled,  absently,  and  pointed  to  a 
chair.  "  I'm  so  glad  to  hear  it,  Sam,"  she  said,  not 
knowing  well  what  it  was  she  had  heard.  "  I've  got 
sorrfething  important  to  tell  you,  Sam." 

"Can  I  smoke?"  asked  Sam.  "I've  got  nerves, 
with  all  this  business,  and  when  I  get  nervous  I  want  a 
cigarette." 

"  Smoke  all  you  want  to,"  was  the  reply,  "  but  listen 
carefully.  I'm  going  to  leave  town,  Sam.'' 

"Is  that  so,  Miss  Perkins!  When'll  you  be  back? 
Because  I  want  to  — 

Again  that  same  mysterious  smile,  something  new 
and  strange  for  her,  a  smile  that  had  sweetness  and 
purpose  and  faith  and  idealism  in  it,  came  on  her  thin 
lips.  "  I  don't  know  when  I  shall  be  back,"  she  an 
swered.  "  It  may  be  I'll  never  come  back.  I  don't 
know.  Certainly  I  hope  to." 

Sam  Greenberg  jumped  up,  thunderstruck.  "  But, 
great  Scott!"  he  cried,  "we've  just  —  well,  I  know, 
Miss  Perkins,  that  this  little  partnership  is  a  small 
thing  to  you,  with  all  your  other  affairs  —  but  we're 
just  starting,  and  your  judgment  - 

"  I  think  your  judgment  is  fine,  Sam,"  was  the  calm 
response.  "  And  I  think  better  of  you  than  I  did  be 
fore,  too.  You've  justified  my  belief,  Sam.  You've 


KHAKI  87 

got  uncommon  sense  —  sense  enough  to  take  advice 
and  act  on  it  — 

"  I  don't  use  so  much  slang,  do  I  ?  "  interrupted  Sam, 
proudly.  "  Oh,  I've  managed  to  '  can '  most  of  it, 
Miss  Perkins." 

She  laughed.  "  Good  for  you !  —  Now,  listen  — 
we've  both  got  other  business.  Before  I  leave  here,  I 
shall  adjust  everything.  Richard  Rockhold,  my  law 
yer,  you  know,  will  attend  to  everything,  Sam.  You'll 
deal  with  him,  and  you'll  find  him  just  as  fine  an  old 
man  as  he  looks  —  a  little  slow  and  drawling  and 
fussy,  but  honest  as  the  day  is  long.  I've  made  ar 
rangements  to  tide  the  Fifth  Avenue  Store  over  any 
little  difficulty;  get  better  acquainted  with  Stenner, 
Sam!  He's  sound  and  helpful,  and  he  knows  every 
thing  he  needs  to  know  about  my  affairs.  And  don't 
be  too  harsh  in  dealing  with  Deacon  Bradshaw.  He'll 
be  as  mean  as  he  can  toward  you  —  just  be  as  decent 
as  you  can  toward  him.  This  store  of  ours  has  nearly 
taken  the  life  out  of  him. —  And  that's  all  of  business." 

Miss  Perkins  tilted  back  in  her  swivel-chair  and 
looked  curiously  at  her  companion  for  a  moment. 
Then  she  said,  "  What  do  you  think  of  the  war,  Sam  ? 
Honest,  now.  Just  what  you  think." 

"  Well,  I  s'pose  it  had  to  be,"  was  the  reply.  "  I 
ain't  strong  on  war,  Miss  Perkins.  But  I'm  an  Ameri 
can,  and  what's  good  enough  for  the  country  I  guess'll 
have  to  be  good  enough  for  me." 

"  How  old  are  you,  Sam  ?  " 

"  I'll  be  twenty-nine  my  next  birthday." 

The  woman  nodded  slowly.  Then  she  said,  "  Sam, 
I  want  to  leave  this  idea  with  you,  and  this  is  all. 
You've  seen  a  good  deal  of  our  folks  here  in  Tredick  — 
you'll  see  a  lot  more  of  them.  I  think  they're  as  good 
folks,  Sam,  as  the  sun  ever  shone  on.  I  mean,  way 
down  deep.  But  they  —  I  don't  know  just  what  has 


88  KHAKI 

happened  to  them.  It  may  be  they've  been  too  pros 
perous;  it  may  be  their  minds  have  grown  faster  than 
their  souls.  If  I  were  religious,  Sam,  I'd  say  they 
had  forgotten  their  Lord.  But  I'm  not  very  religious 
—  not  in  that  way.  If  I  were  a  doctor,  I  might  say 
they  eat  too  hearty.  I  don't  know  what  it  is.  But 
Tredick  folks  are  going  to  meet  the  greatest  crisis  of 
all  their  lives,  Sam ;  and  my  prayer  is  that  they'll  meet 
it,  when  they  realize  it,  like  true  men  and  women. 
Something  they  need  —  some  sorrow,  some  awful 
grief,  some  shock  —  something,  to  wake  them  out  of 
their  narrow  lives.  I  know,  Sam;  I've  been  one  of 
them ;  I  am  yet  —  but  now  I  see  more  clearly.  There 
is  a  time  coming  that  will  put  us  all  to  the  test,  Sam. 
And  when  that  time  comes  I  hope  you  —  you,  Sam 
Greenberg,  proprietor  of  the  Fifth  Avenue  Store  in 
Tredick, —  I  hope  you'll  quietly  think  it  over  —  and 
act  as  wisely  and  as  finely  as  you  know  how.  I  like  to 
think  that  you'll  forget  even  our  store,  Sam,  when  the 
time  comes.  Do  you  see  what  I  mean?  " 

Only  very  vaguely  did  Sam  Greenberg  see  what  Pru 
dence  was  driving  at  —  then.  But  he  told  her  that  he 
did,  very  soberly  and  with  honest  apprehension  in  his 
face. 

She  held  out  her  hand  to  him,  saw  him  go,  locked 
her  desk,  and  went  home. 

As  she  entered  the  kitchen  of  the  Gilstar  house  - 
coming  in  by  the  side  entrance  —  Prudence  heard  a 
merry  babble  of  voices  in  the  sitting-room.  She  rec 
ognized  all  the  voices— -Tom  Gilstar,  Dorothy  Gilstar, 
Antonia,  Alice  Bradshaw  —  and  once  in  a  while  the 
subdued,  mellow  voice  of  Mrs.  Gilstar.  As  she  did  not 
want  to  disturb  them,  or  to  join  them,  at  the  moment, 
Miss  Perkins  sat  down  in  a  rocking  chair  by  the  win 
dow,  and  looked  dreamily  out  at  the  syringa  bush  that 
patted  softly  against  it. 


KHAKI  89 

"To  be  of  service  —  that's  it!"  she  murmured. 
"  To  do  what  we  can  —  that's  it !  " 

There  was  a  knock  on  the  door.  Prudence  jumped 
up  and  opened  it.  As  she  did  so,  she  started  back  with 
a  little  cry,  and  put  a  hand  to  her  breast,  which  flut 
tered. 

A  young  fellow  in  khaki  stood  before  her. 

He  was  a  splendid  specimen  of  manhood,  this  young 
soldier,  spick  and  span  in  his  woolen  khaki  uniform, 
with  carefully-wound  puttees,  and  a  stern-looking 
visored  regulation  cap  on  his  head.  He  had  clear  blue 
eyes;  on  the  sides  of  his  head,  his  hair  was  closely 
clipped ;  and  his  face  was  bronze  in  color  with  the  out 
door  zest  breathing  from  it.  And  when  he  spoke,  he 
showed  two  rows  of  white  teeth,  set  in  powerful,  but 
symmetrical  and  even  attractive  jaws.  He  touched 
his  cap. 

"  Are  you  Mrs.  Gilstar?  "  he  asked.  "  My  name  is 
Gillis.  I'm  a  recruiting  sergeant.  They've  closed  the 
hotel  dining-room,  and  they  said  I  could  possibly  get 
my  meals  up  here."  He  spoke  with  the  formality  of 
one  who  has  learned  his  speech  from  manuscript. 
But,  seeing  the  peculiar  look  on  Prudence  Perkins' 
face,  he  mistook  it  for  a  rebuff,  and  colored  boyishly. 
With  perfect  respectfulness,  and  only  a  little  patient 
chagrin  of  a  man  who  has  met  many  such  rebuffs,  he 
said,  "  It  may  be,  ma'am,  that  you  wouldn't  care  to 
have  a  soldier  - 

"  Care  to  have  a  soldier!  "  cried  Prudence.  "  You 
just  better  believe  we  care  to  have  a  soldier!"  She 
looked  at  him  again.  "  The  reason  I  —  acted  so,"  she 
explained,  "  was  —  I  thought  for  a  minute  it  was  — 
some  one  who  used  to  be  at  this  house.  I'm  not  Mrs. 
Gilstar  —  but  I'll  promise  you  she'll  feed  you,  and  feed 
you  well.  Come  right  in!  " 

Miss   Perkins   threw    open   the   sitting-room   door. 


90  KHAKI 

"  Phoebe,"  she  said,  "  here's  a  young  man  who  wants 
to  take  his  meals  here."  And  with  a  queer  pride  and 
satisfaction  which  she  could  not  have  explained  then, 
the  woman,  with  unmistakable  maternal  glow  in  her 
eyes,  presented  Sergeant  Gillis  to  the  company. 

Tom  Gilstar  dragged  his  bulk  out  of  a  chair  and 
greeted  the  soldier  with  shy  warmth.  As  they  shook 
hands,  the  sergeant  professionally  appraised  the  figure 
of  the  big  fellow  before  him,  and  gave  him  a  man- 
size  grip  of  the  hand. 

The  three  young  women,  not  knowing  whether  to 
rise  or  remain  seated ;  feeling  that  there  might  be  some 
special  formality  when  a  uniform  was  present,  but 
having  no  idea  what  it  was,  were  joyously  flustered 
almost  to  the  giggling  point.  They  wanted  to  giggle 
and  buzz  and  flee  the  room ;  without  knowing  why  they 
felt  so.  The  reason  was,  that  it  had  been  drilled  into 
their  young  heads,  at  the  impressionable  age,  that  sol 
diers  were  nice  but  naughty,  and  that  young  women 
should  cultivate  a  benevolent  contempt  for  men  in  uni 
form,  if  for  no  other  reason  than  that  uniforms  were 
so  naturally  attractive  to  the  feminine  eye. 

Sergeant  Gillis  himself  was  plainly  awkward  and 
embarrassed  in  the  presence  of  the  young  women.  He 
had  removed  his  cap,  and  was  riddling  with  it  nerv 
ously.  Prudence  broke  the  silence,  saying: 

"  The  young  man —  I  didn't  quite  catch  your  —  oh, 
yes !  Gillis  !  —  Sergeant  Gillis  is  here  on  recruiting 
business,  Phoebe.  Butterfield  has  given  him  a  room 
at  the  hotel,  but  the  dining  room  is  closed,  and  he  was 
recommended  to  you."  At  the  same  time  she  flashed 
a  signal  of  approval  at  her  sister,  which  was  under 
stood.  Mrs.  Gilstar  put  forth  her  hand  and  welcomed 
the  young  fellow  to  the  house. 

"  You'll  be  here  to  supper?  "  she  asked. 


KHAKI  91 

Gillis  nodded,  thanked  her,  and  made  a  hasty  exit, 
saying  that  he  would  be  back  by  six  o'clock. 

"  Isn't  he  a  fine  looking  fellow  ?  "  exclaimed  Pru 
dence,  after  the  sergeant  was  gone.  The  girls  made 
no  reply,  but  did  some  whispering.  But  Tom  said, 
generously,  "  Well,  that's  just  what  he  is,  aunt!  "  His 
aunt  looked  at  him  a  long  time,  after  that,  but  she  did 
not  say  anything. 

After  supper,  Miss  Perkins  went  to  her  room.  She 
was  there  a  long  time,  and  when  she  came  down  stairs, 
she  had  two  suit-cases  with  her.  She  called  her  sister 
out  into  the  hall,  threw  her  arms  around  her  neck,  and 
kissed  her  tenderly. 

"  I'm  going  away  for  a  while,  Phcebe,"  she  said. 
"  You'll  hear  from  me.  You  see  now,  Phcebe,  that  we 
are  really  at  war.  This  young  fellow  who  came  this 
afternoon  —  he  has  brought  war  to  us.  It  has  begun. 
I'm  not  going  to  say  good-by  to  Tom  and  Dorothy  — 
I  just  can't.  Kiss  them  both  for  me." 

"  But,  Prudence!  "  exclaimed  the  shocked  Mrs.  Gil- 
star.  "  I  don't  understand  - 

"  No,  dear,"  was  the  reply,  as  Prudence  patted  her 
sister  on  the  shoulder.  "  And  I  can't  explain.  I'm 
leaving  on  the  sleeper,  at  twelve.  I've  got  a  lot  of 
work  to  do  at  the  office.  I'll  write  you,  Phcebe,  and 
explain  everything  later." 

That  night  there  was  a  light  burning  in  Miss  Per 
kins'  office,  till  nearly  midnight.  Then  it  went  out : 
and  a  tall,  angular,  determined  woman,  unafraid  of 
the  night  or  anything  else,  made  her  way  to  the  station 
alone.  At  the  station  she  met  Tom  Gilstar.  She  had 
forgotten  that  he  would  be  there.  But,  just  as  the 
train  was  coming  in,  she  put  an  arm  under  his  arm, 
and  said  tenderly: 

"  Good-by,  Tom.     If  anything  should  happen  before 


92  KHAKI 

I  get  back;  I  mean  any  great  event;  I  mean,  if  —  if 
they  say  they  need  you  —  in  our  army,  I  hope  you'll 
remember  that  your  father  was  a  soldier,  Tom,  and  a 
brave,  good  man.  Something  tells  me,  Tom,  that  you 
won't  flinch  when  the  time  comes." 

And  so  Prudence  Perkins  went  away  from  Tredick. 


IX 

THE  recruiting  flag  of  the  United  States  Army  hung 
from  a  second-story  window  of  the  Commercial  Hotel ; 
a  sandwich-board  rested  on  the  sidewalk  in  front  of 
the  hotel,  inviting  young  men  to  enlist  for  the  service 
of  their  country;  and,  by  turns,  Sergeant  Gillis  and 
his  partner,  a  rangy  Middle-western  soldier  named  Kil- 
patrick,  stood  at  their  post  beside  the  sandwich-board, 
on  the  watch  for  youthful  patriots. 

It  goes  without  saying  that  the  army  never  picks  its 
worst-looking  men  for  recruiting  duty.  The  very 
sight  of  Gillis  and  his  fellow  officer  —  their  backs  like 
ramrods,  their  tan  shoes  polished  neatly,  uniforms  fit 
ting  like  gloves,  sent  a  tingle  of  admiration  and  envy 
into  every  Treclick  heart,  though  the  greater  number 
of  Tredick  hearts  refused  pointblank  to  admit  it. 
There  was  scarcely  a  moment  of  the  day  when  some 
straggling  Tredick  males  were  not  staring,  from  a  safe 
distance,  at  the  recruiters.  But  enlistment  —  that  was 
another  thing!  Tredick  had  prepared  for  Universal 
Peace,  not  for  enlistment. 

There  were  schoolboys  who  yearned  to  join  the 
army,  and  to  be  like  the  splendid  Sergeant  Gillis.  But 
the  idea  was  promptly  squelched  when  they  reported 
their  ambitions  at  home.  "  Huh !  "  sneered  father,  "  I 
guess  you  wouldn't  be  in  the  army  more  than  a  week 
before  you'd  give  your  right  hand  to  be  home  again. 
Why,  you  don't  know  what  the  army  is !  Those  fel 
lows  down  at  the  Commercial  Hotel  may  be  nice 
enough,  in  their  way,  but  the  most  of  'em  —  well,  ask 
anybody  who  knows!  " 

93 


94  KHAKI 

There  being  nobody  who  knew  (a  fact  which  father 
was  sure  of),  the  ardent  youths  concluded  that  Tre- 
dick,  after  all,  was  safer  than  membership  in  an  army 
of  toughs,  thieves  and  cutthroats. 

If  this  argument  did  not  avail,  the  prudent  friends 
of  would-be  enlisters  wagged  their  heads  knowingly 
and  said,  "  Why,  you  poor  ninny,  you'll  never  get 
across  the  ocean.  Do  you  know  what  it  means  to 
drown!  Do  you!  Think  of  it!  Torpedoed  out  in 
the  middle  of  the  ocean, —  ugh!"  Or,  sometimes  it 
was,  "  Read  the  papers,  boy,  read  the  papers!  Why, 
they  die  like  sheep  over  there.  What  do  they  care  for 
your  life?  Sometimes  they  kill  their  own  men  with 
cannon  by  mistake!  " 

There  were  a  number  of  men  who  would  enlist,  but 
they  couldn't  be  spared  from  their  work.  There  were 
a  number  who  would  enlist  —  later.  A  very  consid 
erable  number  spoke  seriously  on  the  subject  with  the 
recruiting  officers,  went  home  to  think  it  over.  They 
thought  it  over,  and  thereafter  walked  on  the  other 
side  of  the  street  when  they  passed  the  Commercial 
Hotel. 

Suppressing  his  weariness,  Sergeant  Gillis  stood  by 
his  sandwich-board  hour  after  hour,  looking  search- 
ingly  and  appraisingly  at  the  males  who  passed.  He 
had  had  orders  not  to  be  too  ardent  in  his  solicitation; 
so  when  he  saw  a  young  fellow  who  looked  fit,  he 
merely  smiled  at  him,  tried  to  engage  him  in  conversa 
tion,  and  put  the  proposition  up  to  him  with  soldierly 
bluntness  and  honesty. 

"  Now,  look  here,"  he  would  say,  "  we  need  you, 
feller!  The  government  is  going  to  get  you  if  it  wants 
you,  you  know  that.  Why  not  be  a  regular  feller,  and 
enlist,  and  pick  your  own  branch  of  the  service? 
Come  on,  let's  talk  it  over." 

But  the  net  result,  after  three  days,  was  that  one 


KHAKI  95 

raw  youth  walked  into  Tredick  from  a  farm  eight 
miles  away,  offered  himself  for  enlistment,  was  sent 
down  to  the  main  office  in  Springhaven  —  and  re 
jected  on  physical  grounds. 

At  noon,  on  the  fourth  day,  the  two  recruiting  of 
ficers  were  completely  disgusted.  They  were  talking 
Tredick  over  in  no  gentle  terms.  "  There's  nothing 
doing  here  in  this  burg,  Kil,"  said  Gillis.  "  This 
bunch  is  going  to  wait  for  the  draft  —  you  can  see 
that.  They  don't  know  there's  a  war.  I  wrote  to  the 
boss  last  night  that  it  looks  rotten.  I  don't  know  why 
they  sent  us  up  here,  anyway." 

"  Well,  I'll  be  glad  enough  to  quit,  you  bet,"  was 
the  reply.  "  A  lot  of  the  people  here  give  you  a  fishy 
eye  as  if  you  was  going  to  pick  their  pockets,  or  some 
thing.  I  guess  these  guys  used  to  walk  more  on  this 
side  of  the  street,  till  we  came.  Notice  how  the  girls 
cling  to  the  other  sidewalk,  and  never  give  a  fellow 
even  a  decent  smile.  They've  been  told  that  we're  a 
lousy  bunch,  Gillis  —  that's  what !  The  only  time  I've 
felt  like  a  man  was  last  night  up  at  that  Gilstar  place, 
where  you  eat.  That  did  seem  a  little  like  home.  Tell 
the  boss  to  put  us  somewhere  we  can  pick  some  live 
ones." 

Gillis  went  to  dinner  at  Gilstars'  that  noon,  very 
much  depressed.  There  was  a  great  rivalry  among  the 
recruiting  officers  as  to  which  station  could  make  the 
best  returns;  and  besides  that,  the  soldier  was  one  of 
those  chaps  who,  without  possessing  any  great  mental 
qualities,  had  a  saving  grace  of  sincerity  and  purpose. 
After  dinner  he  was  sitting  in  a  rocking-chair,  gloom 
ily,  until  Mrs.  Gilstar  said,  in  her  quiet  way : 

"Are  you  —  getting  many  enlistments  here,  Mr. 
Gillis?" 

He  looked  up  at  her  and  grinned.  "If  the  coun 
try  depended  on  what  we  can  get  out  of  Tredick,  Mrs. 


96  KHAKI 

Gilstar,  the  Germans  would  be  playing  marbles  in  the 
Capitol  at  Washington,  in  a  few  weeks !  " 

The  old  woman  said  nothing  more  for  a  while. 
She  was  looking  straight  ahead,  but  she  was  not  seeing 
anything  in  that  room.  A  queerly  happy-sorrowful 
smile  hovered  on  her  lips,  and  a  little  film  came  over  her 
eyes.  She  looked  up  at  the  crayon  enlargement  of  the 
late  Mr.  Gilstar,  over  the  mantel.  Finally  she  said : 

"  I  had  —  I  have  another  boy  —  somewhere,  Mr. 
Gillis.  I  guess  you  —  haven't  heard  him  mentioned. 
He  was  in  the  army,  too." 

Gillis  was  interested  at  once.  "Is  that  so?"  he 
answered.  "  In  the  regular  army,  Mrs.  Gilstar?  " 

"  Yes,  he  was  in  the  Philippines  —  the  last  we  knew. 
I  thought  —  perhaps  you  might  have  been  in  the  Phil 
ippines,  too.  I  don't  suppose  you  would  have  known 
him,  though  —  the  army  is  so  large." 

"  Why,  I  have  served  in  the  Philippines,"  said  Gillis. 
Suddenly  his  eye  lighted  up  with  a  beam  of  struggling 
recollection.  "  That  name  —  Gilstar  —  you  know, 
Mrs.  Gilstar,  it's  kind  of  odd  name  —  I've  been  won 
dering  where  I've  heard  it.  Gilstar!  Gilstar!  I'm 
sure  I  didn't  know  your  son  —  but  there's  something 
about  that  name  sticks  in  my  crop.  Gilstar.  Did  he 
ever  write  from  Mindanao,  from  a  little  godforsaken 
place  called  El  Buey?" 

"Mindanao  —  yes  —  yes!"  breathed  Mrs.  Gilstar. 
"  That  was  the  last  place  he  was  in,  I'm  sure.  You  — 
you  must  have  known  him,  Mr.  Gillis!" 

Gillis  ran  his  hands  through  his  hair,  trying  to  recall. 
He  shook  his  head.  Then,  after  a  pause,  he  asked, 
quickly,  "He  wasn't  a  medium-sized  fellow,  with  black 
hair  and  very  dark  eye-brows,  and  a  squarish  jaw  like 
mine,  and  a  kind  of  a  devilish  —  you  know  —  smile  on 
his  face  —  good  natured,  full  of  fun  like?  As  if  he 
was  always  up  to  some  deviltry,  I  mean?  " 


KHAKI  97 

"That's  my  boy  —  that's  Sherry!"  cried  Mrs.  Gil- 
star,  reaching  out  a  hand  toward  Gillis,  and  looking 
into  his  eyes  as  though  she  expected  to  see  the  reflection 
of  her  missing  son  there. 

Then  the  sergeant  whacked  his  open  hand  on  the 
arm  of  the  chair.  "  I've  got  him  now !  "  he  exclaimed. 
"  I  know  where  I  saw  him !  No,  I  didn't  know  him 
personally,  Mrs.  Gilstar,  but  I  saw  him  once  when  we 
were  in  camp  in  El  Buey.  I've  got  him  now !  He 
came  over  with  another  fellow,  just  after  he'd  been 
mentioned  in  orders  for  saving  the  life  of  a  pal  of  his 
-  I  remember  the  fellow's  name,  because  it  was  the 
same  name  as  my  best  pal  —  it  was  Murray.  Yes, 
Murray  was  with  him  —  a  red-headed  fellow,  I  think 
he  was  —  tall  and  thin,  just  like  my  bunkie.  I  don't 
just  remember  what  the  game  was  —  it  was  when  the 
Moros  got  the  idea  in  their  heads  they  could  lick  us, 
one  time  —  but  I  remember  this  chap  Gilstar  was 
mentioned  in  orders.  Well,  well !  was  that  your  son, 
Mrs.  Gilstar?  I'm  sorry  I  wasn't  acquainted  with 
him.  Did  you  say  he  was  still  in  the  Philippines?  " 

Instantly,  from  the  trembling  lip  before  him,  the 
young  fellow  saw  that  he  had  made  a  bad  break.  He 
tried  to  mitigate  it  by  saying,  hastily,  "  What  I  mean 
is—  Then  he  stopped,  confused. 

But  Mrs.  Gilstar  did  not  break  down,  as  he  feared. 
Instead,  a  little  look  of  hopefulness  shone  in  her  eyes, 
as  she  replied,  softly,  "  We  —  don't  know,  Mr.  Gillis. 
Sherry  hasn't  written,  for  a  long  time.  Oh,  I'm  sure 
he's  all  right.  I'm  certain  he'll  come  back  —  maybe 
any  day." 

"  Of  course  he  will !  "  responded  the  sergeant,  with 
a  comically  vociferous  effort  to  cheer  the  woman. 
"  Sure  he  will.  Wherever  he  is,  Mrs.  Gilstar,  when 
he  hears  of  this  shindig  over  in  France,  he'll  beat  it 
for  a  recruiting  office.  Oh,  sure !  You  can't  keep 


98  KHAKI 

the  boys  away  when  there's  a  hurry-call  goes  out  for 
them.     I  tell  you,  we  like  to  run  across  one  of  the  - 

But  Mrs.  Gilstar  wasn't  following  this  spirited  dis 
course  now.  She  rose,  and  stood  for  a  few  moments 
beneath  the  picture  of  the  boy  in  blue  uniform.  "  This 
was  Sherry's  father,  Mr.  Gillis,"  she  murmured,  with 
glowing  eyes.  "  He  was  just  like  Sherry,  at  his  age. 
He  was  only  fifteen  when  he  went  to  the  Civil  War." 

Sergeant  Gillis  was  on  his  feet.  He  saluted  the 
crayon  portrait  with  grave  sincerity. 

"  I  think  war  is  a  dreadful  thing,"  added  the  little 
woman.  "  I  don't  understand  all  about  this  one,  Mr. 
Gillis,  but  I  know  that  our  country  has  called  for  sac 
rifices,  and  we  must  make  them,  even  if  it  breaks  our 
hearts.  I'm  sorry  —  I  don't  say  anything  about  it  - 
the  people  here  are  nice  people,  Mr.  Gillis  —  but  they 
aren't  doing  as  they  did  in  the  Civil  War.  I  was  only 
a  child  then  —  my  husband  and  I  didn't  meet  till  long 
after  the  war  —  but  I  heard  about  it  all." 

Sergeant  Gillis  stood,  watching  the  woman  intently. 
Something  about  her  words  gave  him  courage  to  ask 
a  question  that  had  evidently  been  in  his  mind.  He 
blurted  out,  "  Mrs.  Gilstar,  I  haven't  said  anything  - 
it  didn't  seem  quite  right,  somehow,  to  take  advantage 
of  being  right  here  under  your  roof  —  so  I  hadn't  said 
anything  to  your  son  Tom  —  about  enlisting.  I  won 
der —  I  don't  know  just  how  to  say  it  —  would  you 
have  any  objection  —  if  I  should  speak  to  him  —  some 
how  he's  such  a  great  big  fine  fellow  that  if  Tredick 
people  saw  him  —  you  know.  If  you  don't  want  me 
to  ask  him,  I  won't,  I  promise  you  that.  I  realize  that 
you've  had  one  son  in  the  army.  There  are  plenty 
of  people  who  haven't  had  even  one." 

The  tired,  wistful  eyes  closed  for  a  moment.  She 
was  leaning  against  the  wall.  Then  she  put  her  hands 
over  her  eyes  and  trembled  violently.  But  she  replied, 


KHAKI  99 

with  a  courage  that  sent  the  blood  hurrying  through 
the  veins  of  the  soldier,  as  he  watched  her,  sorry  that 
he  had  brought  up  the  subject,  "I  —  I  have  no  objec 
tion  —  no.  It  must  be.  That  is  what  Prudence 
meant.  I  - 

"  Why,  mother!  "  cried  the  frightened  voice  of  Tom 
Gilstar.  "  What's  the  matter?  "  The  big  fellow  had 
entered,  and  stood  looking  first  at  his  mother  and  then 
at  Gillis.  For,  as  he  had  come  in,  he  heard  the  woman 
sob  convulsively. 

"  I  think  perhaps  I'd  better  speak  of  the  matter 
later,''  suggested  the  sergeant,  to  Mrs.  Gilstar.  And 
to  Tom  he  said,  "  I'm  sorry  I  brought  up  a  subject  that 
upset  your  mother."  And  the  good  fellow  started  to 
leave. 

"No;  you  needn't  go!"  came  the  response  from 
Mrs.  Gilstar.  "  It  —  it  may  as  well  be  now  as  any 
time !  "  She  turned  to  her  big  son  and  looked  him  in 
the  eyes.  Then  she  stepped  over  to  him  and  drew 
her  arm  under  his,  and  put  her  tear-stained  face  against 
his  shoulder.  "  Tom,"  she  said,  "  we  were  speaking 
about  you.  I  —  I  have  told  the  sergeant  that  —  he 
has  my  permission  —  She  could  not  get  any  farther 
at  the  moment.  She  gestured  at  Gillis,  indicating  that 
he  could  go  on. 

Sergeant  Gillis  looked  as  though  he  would  far  rather 
quit  the  scene,  even  at  the  expense  of  losing  a  recruit. 
But  he  had  to  see  it  through  now.  So  he  said,  "  To 
tell  the  truth,  Tom,  I  was  asking  your  mother  about 
your  enlisting.  I  thought  somehow  it  wouldn't  be 
fair  to  speak  to  you  first,  me  being  a  kind  of  guest  here. 
Tom,  I'd  like  to  put  yon  in  khaki.  I'll  ask  you  straight 
out  like  one  regular  feller  to  another,  will  you  join 
us?" 

The  first  expression  on  Tom  Gilstar's  face  was 
simply  that  of  amazement.  It  was  as  though  he  had 


ioo  KHAKI 

not  once  considered  himself  a  possible  candidate  for 
the  army.  He  looked  at  his  mother  inquiringly.  She- 
was  looking  steadfastly  away  from  her  son.  Then  a 
deep  red  flush  came  in  the  big  fellow's  cheeks.  "  I 
don't  see  how  I  can,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice.  "  You 
know  I'm  the  constable  here." 

"Why,  great  Scott,  if  that's  the  only  thing,"  an 
swered  Gillis  quickly,  used  as  he  was  to  rebut  objec 
tions.  "  I'll  guarantee  - 

"  No,  it  isn't  the  only  thing,"  added  Tom.  "  You 
see,  Mr.  Gillis,  I  —  we  have  a  brother.  But  we  haven't 
heard  from  him  for  a  long  time.  So  I  couldn't  leave 
my  mother  alone  — 

"  Perhaps  it's  better  to  be  alone,  Tom,  than  to  feel 
that  I've  prevented  you  from  serving  your  country," 
said  a  repressed  voice. 

Tom  stared  at  his  mother.  He  could  hardly  believe 
what  he  heard.  He  had  felt  all  along  that  in  such  a 
case  as  this,  he  would  have  the  satisfaction  of  making 
a  sacrifice  for  his  mother.  Now  his  mother  wanted  to 
make  the  sacrifice  herself!  It  was  something  he  had 
never  dreamed  of.  It  cut  the  ground  from  under  his 
feet.  He  saw  his  mother's  face  slowly  turning  toward 
him.  He  felt  Sergeant  Gillis  regarding  him  keenly. 
The  perspiration  started  out  on  his  forehead.  He 
hadn't  dreamed  of  going  to  war.  The  times  he  had 
thought  of  it,  he  had  assured  himself  that  a  constable 
would  naturally  be  exempt  from  the  draft.  Deacon 
Bradshaw  had  said  as  much.  All  the  horrible  pictures 
that  had  gone  through  his  mind,  in  thinking  of  the  war 
reeled  before  him  now.  He  saw  himself  with  a  rifle 
in  his  hands  —  a  rifle  —  to  kill  a  man  —  he,  who  had 
never  killed  anything  —  to  kill  a  man !  The  goose- 
flesh  came  out  on  him.  He  lifted  his  eyes  and  turned 
anxiously  toward  his  mother.  She  was  gone !  Then 
he  had  a  delayed  sensation  that  she  had  patted  him 


KHAKI  101 

gently  on  the  sleeve.  And  he  heard  her  going  up 
stairs.  He  was  alone  with  Gillis ! 

"I  —  couldn't  kill  anybody  —  I  simply  couldn't !  " 
gasped  Tom.  "  I  told  them  that  when  1  got  this  con 
stable  job." 

Sergeant  Gillis  was  looking  at  him  with  a  reassuring 
and  understanding  smile.  "  Sure!  "  he  said,  "  I  know 
how  you  feel,  Tom.  It  ain't  a  pleasant  sensation. 
Say,  Tom,  I  remember  sticking  a  nigger  with  my 
bayonet  —  he  was  coming  for  me  crazy  with  a  kris  — 
I  saw  his  eyes  —  they  seemed  to  be  as  red  as  live  coals 

-  and  I  gave  it  to  him,  through  the  stomach.     Gee, 
kid,  I  almost  gave  up  my  breakfast  —  I  felt  as  if  I  had 
the  iron  in  my  own  stomach.     I  couldn't  get  over  it 
that  day.     We  got  the  recall,  and  I  could  hardly  hoof 
in.     I  couldn't  see  anything  but  that  jab.     I  thought 
1  was  going  nutty.     Then,  Tom,  it  came  over  me  — 
the  old  Stars  and  Stripes  were  coming  down  at  sunset 

-  I  saw  the  old  Hag.     I  says  to  myself,  '  Gillis,  there's 
something  bigger  than  your  own  feelings  —  and  that's 
the  country  you're  working  for.     Maybe  the  folks  at 
Washington  are  off  their  nuts  —  if  they  are,  this  blood 
is  on  them.     You  didn't  come  here  to  decide  whether 
their  nuts  were  loose  or  not.     You  got  sent  here  to  do 
what  you  was  told.     The  chances  are  those  guys  know 
more  than  you  do  about  it.'     And  I   felt  better.     It 
ain't  no  use  telling  me  that  war  is  a  nasty  job,  Tom. 
I  know  it  is.     But  as  long  as  there  is  any  country  that 
wants  to  take  a  fall  out  of  another  country,  there's 
war  —  and  it's  a  darn  sight  nastier  job  to  lie  down  like 
a  dog  and  whine.     We  didn't  start  this  war,  Tom  — 
but  by  God,  it's  up  to  us  to  finish  it!     Then,  if  the 
guys  that  run  the  countries  want  to  abolish  war,  why 
take  it  from  me,  bo,  I'll  be  tickled  to  death. —  What 
do  you  say,  Tom  ?  " 

"  I  wouldn't  be  any  good.     I  haven't  got  the  nerve. 


102  KHAKI 

You  don't  want  men  like  me  —  you  want  regular  fight 
ing  kind  of  fellows  —  like  my  brother  Sheridan,"  said 
Tom,  shaking  his  head. 

But  Gillis  only  smiled  more  broadly.  He  seemed 
to  understand  perfectly.  "  I  get  you!  "  he  cried,  joy 
ously,  as  though  it  were  a  new  and  wonderful  bit  of 
humor.  "  I've  seen  a  lot  of  them  just  like  you,  Tom. 
They  think  they  lack  nerve.  Why,  I've  seen  a  rookie 
crying  himself  to  sleep,  and  nursing  the  idea  that  he 
was  a  damn  coward.  But  he  wasn't,  Tom.  He  just 
hadn't  got  started,  that's  all.  Somebody  at  home  had 
always  patted  his  head  and  rocked  him  to  sleep  —  but 
they  hadn't  made  a  coward  of  him.  I'll  tell  you  a  lot 
about  that.—  What  do  you  say,  Tom  ?  God,  boy,  I 
want  to  see  a  uniform  on  you!  You'll  look  like  a 
whole  regiment.  They'll  have  to  make  a  special  bunk 
in  the  transport  to  get  you  across." 

The  half  of  it,  Tom  Gilstar  no  longer  heard.  He 
stood  limply,  unable  to  argue,  unable  to  run,  to  dodge. 
The  war  had  come  and  plucked  him  by  the  sleeve.  His 
mother  was  willing!  That  fact  alone  had  overthrown 
his  balance.  Did  she  really  want  him  to  go?  It  was 
unthinkable  —  but  something  told  him  it  might  be  so. 
He  blurted  out,  slowly,  "  I  —  can't  think  straight,  Mr. 
Gillis.  Will  you  let  me  tell  you  to-morrow  ?  " 

In  recruiting,  delays  are  dangerous.  But  this  was 
a  special  case.  Sergeant  Gillis  stuck  out  his  right 
hand.  "  Put  it  there,  Tom,  old  boy,"  he  said.  "  Sure 
—  we'll  fix  it  up  to-morrow. —  So  long."  And  Tom 
was  left  alone. 

The  big  fellow  sat  down  and  covered  his  face  with 
his  hands.  It  all  seemed  like  a  nightmare.  When  he 
had  waked  up  that  morning,  there  was  no  such  world 
around  him  as  existed  now.  He  was  on  the  edge  of  a 
precipice.  The  thing  was  all  done,  with  one  more 
word.  He  wanted  to  cling  to  something  —  to  some- 


KHAKI  103 

body.  He  wanted  to  hear  somebody  advise  him  not  to 
do  this  thing.  He  couldn't  see  his  mother.  The  sud 
den  sound  of  her  feet  on  the  stairs  sent  him  toward 
the  door  —  and  he  was  walking  rapidly  down  the  street 
a  few  moments  afterward. 

Tom  Gilstar  had  seen  little  of  Antonia  Pillicy  since 
that  day  Deacon  Bradshaw  had  made  him  constable. 
In  those  intervening  days  he  felt  that  he  loved  her  and 
needed  her  more  than  ever.  She  had  seemed  to  avoid 
him;  and  yet,  whenever  they  met,  always  she  had  a 
gracious  smile  and  a  friendly  word.  There  came  now 
into  Tom's  mind  an  idea  that  was  essentially  boyish 
and  innocent,  just  as  might  be  expected  in  a  mind  that 
had  remained,  despite  his  growth  in  intelligence,  boy 
ish  and  naive.  The  young  fellow  was  far  too  inno 
cent  and  generous  and  clear  to  be  calculating  —  but 
somehow  there  ran  through  his  mind  now  a  definite 
suggestion  —  and  it  was  this ;  suppose  he  should  go  to 
Antonia  and  tell  her  that  he  was  thinking  of  enlisting? 
He  had  heard  somewhere,  sometime,  that  if  women 
saw  a  man  in  trouble,  their  attitude  would  change. 
If  they  really  cared  for  a  man  at  all,  the  idea  that 
the  man  might  be  whisked  off  to  war  should  certainly 
bring  all  that  affection  to  the  surface.  With  these 
simple  thoughts  in  his  mind,  the  big  fellow  went  to  the 
Pillicy  house. 

'Tony  herself  answered  the  bell.  Always  that  same 
sweet  smile  in  her  face  —  and  she  put  out  a  hand  that 
was  very  soft  and  warm.  "  Come  right  in,  Tom,"  she 
said.  "  I'm  alone,  but  mother'll  be  home  very  soon." 
She  looked  very  charming  in  a  plain  navy-blue  dress 
with  a  starched  white  collar. 

"  Yes,  I'll  come  in  a  few  minutes,"  said  Tom  awk 
wardly.  "  I  wanted  to  see  you  about  something  im 
portant,  'Tony.''  She  flashed  a  look  at  him  as  though 
she  were  sure  she  knew  what  the  important  matter  was ; 


104  KHAKI 

and  the  color  came  into  her  cheeks  quickly.     But  he 
quite  took  her  breath  away  when  he  explained : 

"  I'm  thinking  of  enlisting  in  the  army,  'Tony."  He 
had  figured  that  this  would  be  the  most  effective  way 
of  putting  it. 

It  was.  It  brought  the  girl  to  her  feet,  and  she 
stared  at  him  in  amazement. 

"  Tom !  "  she  cried.  "  You  don't  mean  it !  Not 
really!" 

He  nodded  soberly.  And  he  was  astonished  to  find 
how  much  satisfaction  there  was  in  stating  the  dra 
matic  thing.  "  Oh,  I  haven't  actually  enlisted  yet," 
he  went  on,  stressing  heavily  on  that  narrow  chasm 
which  yet  separated  him  from  such  a  step,  "  but  I've 
been  talking  with  Sergeant  Gillis  about  it.  He  wants 
me  to.  I  thought  I'd  get  some  advice  before  I  really 
did  it.  But  I  think  —  my  mother  is  willing." 

Understand,  Tom  Gilstar  up  to  this  moment  had  felt 
nothing  more  than  the  possible  danger  of  going  into 
the  army.  So  he  was  unprepared  for  what  followed. 

The  girl  looked  at  him  for  a  moment ;  her  lips 
parted ;  and  her  eyes  became  animated  with  an  excite 
ment  and  emotion  which  Tom  had  never  seen  in  them 
before.  She  put  a  hand  upon  his  sleeve  and  came 
close  to  him. 

"  Tom !  "  she  murmured,  "  I  can  hardly  believe  it ! 
You  —  are  —  going  to  fight  in  France!  To  think, 
Tom  —  that  it  should  be  you  —  I  mean  —  most  peo 
ple  will  be  surprised  —  but  I'm  not  surprised,  Tom — 
I  knew  you  had  it  in  you,  when  the  time  came !  It's 
splendid !  Oh,  Tom,  I  take  back  anything  I  said  to 
you  —  please  don't  remember  any  of  it  —  I  don't  feel 
that  way  any  more  now  —  I'll  never  forget  you  a  single 
moment  while  you're  away  —  that  is,  if  you  still  feel 
the  same  way  about  me,  Tom  — 

The  big  fellow  took  her  hands,  not  well  knowing 


KHAKI  105 

what  he  was  doing,  and  gazed  into  her  eyes,  dumb. 

"  Oh,  it  isn't  that  I  want  you  to  go  away,  Tom. 
No;  we've  just  found  each  other,  and  it  will  hurt  me, 
terribly.  I  guess  that  it's  —  that  I  want  you  to  want 
to  go  —  yes,  yes,  that's  it !  " 

She  was  in  his  arms  now,  clinging  to  him,  letting 
all  her  weakness  and  strength  merge  in  his,  and  her 
face  was  raised  to  him,  and  she  was  half  laughing,  half- 
crying. 

Many  a  man  has  sealed  his  doom  with  a  kiss ;  many 
a  man  has  saved  his  soul  by  touching  a  woman's  lips. 
So  did  Tom  Gilstar  then,  either  one  or  the  other;  his 
heart  beating,  thumping,  in  his  breast,  he  gave  himself 
up  to  the  moment,  and  kissed  the  red  lips  that  offered 
with  happy  abandon  toward  his.  He  had  not  come  to 
Antonia  Pillicy  to  be  enlisted  in  the  service  of  his 
country ;  he  had  come  for  sympathy,  for  safety,  for 
God-knows-what  thing  —  and  the  girl  had  taken  it  for 
granted  that  his  mind  was  made  and  his  loyalty  placed. 
There  was  no  retreat.  He  summoned  all  his  strength 
and  said,  quietly,  "  I'll  do  my  best,  Tony;  I  can't  do 
any  more." 

"  I'll  be  so  miserable,  Tom,  and  so  happy,"  she 
breathed  into  his  ear. 

Slowly,  thoughtfully,  Tom  went  on  to  Deacon  Brad- 
shaw's.  The  deacon  had  just  come  from  his  new 
store;  he  was  peevish,  upset  and  indignant  at  the  way 
customers  were  going  into  the  Fifth  Avenue  Store. 
He  was  busy  hating  Sam  Greenberg  at  the  moment ; 
so  busy  that  he  merely  glanced  at  Tom  Gilstar  and 
growled,  "Well,  well,  Tom;  I'm  busy." 

"  I  just  came  to  tell  you  that  I'm  going  to  enlist  in 
the  army,  deacon,"  said  Tom,  with  a  faint  satisfaction 
at  the  jar  the  news  would  carry  with  it. 

"  What !  "  yelled  the  deacon.  "  You're  —  a  fool, 
Tom!" 


io6  KHAKI 

No  reply  to  that.  The  charge  found  almost  an 
approving  echo  in  Tom's  own  mind.  "  You'll  get  shot 
for  your  pains !  "  added  the  deacon.  "  You'll  do  no 
such  thing,  Tom !  Besides,"  he  went  on,  "  you're  our 
constable.  They  can't  take  a  town's  constable. 
There's  nobody  else  for  the  job.  Have  they  been 
threatening  you  into  it  ?  You  leave  it  to  me,  Tom  - 
I'll  see  that  you  stay  at  home  where  you  belong." 

"  No,  sir,"  was  the  reply,  "  it's  my  own  free  de 
cision.  I'm  going  to  enlist  to-day.  I'm  on  my  way 
down  there  now.  I'll  ask  them  if  I  can  have  two 
weeks  before  I  go  away,  to  give  you  time  to  get  an 
other  constable,  if  you  want  me  to."  With  that  Tom 
started  out. 

"  Here !  Come  here,  you !  "  cried  the  deacon ;  but 
the  only  answer  was  the  closing  of  the  door. 

Sergeant  Gillis  was  just  taking  in  the  sandwich 
board  when  Tom  Gilstar  came  up  behind  him,  plucked 
him  by  the  arm,  and  said  breathlessly,  "  I've  made  up 
my  mind,  Sergeant  Gillis!  I'll  enlist." 

"At-a-boy!"  cried  Gillis.  "Good  for  you,  Tom. 
I  knew  you'd  be  all  to  the  good  when  the  time  came. 
Come  on  upstairs."  They  went  up  quickly  to  the  room 
in  the  hotel.  "  Here's  a  regular  man!  "  was  the  ser 
geant's  greeting  to  Kilpatrick.  "If  this  doesn't  start 
the  ball  rolling,  they're  a  bunch  of  dead  ones !  .Sit 
down,  Tom.  Now  there's  no  use  of  bothering  with 
a  preliminary  examination  here.  I'm  going  down  to 
the  office  at  Springhaven  to-morrow,  and  I'll  take  you 
along  with  me." 

"  There  was  just  one  thing  I  wanted  to  ask,"  said 
Tom.  "  I  told  Deacon  Bradshaw  that  I'd  try  to  stay 
here  as  constable  for  a  couple  of  weeks  after  I  enlisted. 
Do  you  suppose  they'd  let  me?  " 

"  All  the  breaks  go  in  favor  of  the  man  who  walks 
up  and  enlists,"  quoth  Gillis,  sententiously.  "  I  haven't 


KHAKI  107 

a  doubt  but  you  can  arrange  it.     They  don't  want  to 
make  it  hard  for  anybody." 

Then,  it  seemed  no  more  than  a  few  minutes  after 
ward,  so  fast  the  time  went,  that  Tom  Gilstar  was 
standing  in  a  bare,  bleak  room  in  Springhaven,  nerv 
ously  facing  several  army  officers  who  looked  at  him 
without  particular  interest,  but  in  a  certainly  friendly 
way.  He  gave  his  name,  place  of  birth,  age,  next  of 
kin  and  occupation  with  utmost  gravity.  There  was 
a  little  thin-haired  man,  with  glasses,  at  the  desk  — 
they  referred  to  him  as  "  Wittmeyer,"  and  he  looked 
as  German  as  Hindenburg — though  he  told  Tom  aft 
erward  that  he  had  been  in  the  cavalry  of  the  United 
States  army  for  thirty  years. 

They  pulled  out  a  standard,  bearing  cryptic  letters 
upon  it ;  fronted  Tom  Gilstar  toward  it,  at  a  distance 
of  fifteen  feet  or  so,  and  blindfolded  one  of  his  eyes. 
"  Read  that  top  line !  " 

"EJUNKsX  L,"  read  Tom.. 

"  Read  the  next  line !  " 

He  did. 

The  other  eye  is  covered. 

"  Read  the  top  line !  " 

"EJUNKsX  L." 

"  Both  normal !  " 

One  of  Tom's  ears  is  covered  tightly.  Somebody 
whispers,  sepulchrally,  "  Chicago." 

"  Chicago,"  repeated  Tom,  in  a  thick  quaver. 

"  St.  Louis." 

"  St.  Louis." 

The  other  ear  is  covered. 

Tom  Gilstar's  hearing  proves  to  be  excellent. 

"  Take  off  your  clothes!  " 

Never  before  since  a  boy,  had  he  taken  off  his 
clothes  in  the  presence  of  other  males.  He  turned  red, 


io8  KHAKI 

there  was  a  dry  cough  in  his  throat  which  he  could  not 
cough.  He  looked  swiftly  around  at  the  men  in  the 
room.  They  were  paying  no  more  attention  to  him 
than  as  if  he  had  been  a  yesterday's  newspaper.  He 
went  to  a  settee  at  the  side  and  began  to  strip,  slowly. 

It  was  all  effected  with  business-like  speed  and 
sang-froid.  Once  his  clothes  were  off,  Tom  felt  bet 
ter.  After  all,  it  was  taking  off  his  clothes  that  wor 
ried  him.  He  felt  the  cold  fingers  that  carried  a  tape 
measure  spidering  along  his  flesh.  He  heard  numbers 
being  called,  and  words  of  which  he  knew  the  meaning, 
but  failed  to  catch  the  application. 

"  Hop  across  to  the  other  side  on  your  right  foot. 
On  the  ball  of  your  foot!  "  The  big,  fine  figure  went 
flying  across  the  room  and  stopped  at  the  other  end, 
still  on  that  one  foot. 

"  Good!     Now  back  on  the  other  foot!  " 

It  was  well  done.  "  Fine ! ''  said  the  officer.  "  I'm 
always  afraid  of  flat  feet  in  you  big  fellows.  You 
ought  to  have  seen  the  way  we've  been  turning  'em 
down  for  broken  arches.  You're  lucky." 

"  Lucky !  "  Tom  didn't  feel  so  sure  of  it.  He  won 
dered,  in  a  flash,  how  those  fellows  who  were  so  un 
lucky  as  to  be  turned  down  on  account  of  broken 
arches,  felt  about  it. 

Then  came  the  searching  medical  examination  — 
lungs,  heart.  Questions  which  sent  the  color  into 
Tom's  cheeks,  and  which  he  thanked  the  Lord  he  could 
answer  in  the  negative.  It  was  done !  The  com 
manding  officer  listened  patiently  to  Tom's  explanation 
of  how  badly  he  would  be  needed  in  Tredick  for  a 
couple  weeks  after  he  was  enlisted. 

"  Oh,  that'll  be  all  right.  \Ye  want  to  get  the  uni 
form  on  you,  Gilstar,  and  straighten  your  back  a  little 
-  you  don't  know  how  much  you  stoop  over,  my  lad 


KHAKI  109 

—  Great  Scott,  a  fellow  like  you  ought  not  to  have 
shoulders  like  those  —  here  —  that's  more  like  it !  - 
see !  —  chin  in  —  that's  right  —  your  chest  would  all 
run  down  to  your  abdomen  in  a  few  more  years.  Wait 
till  we  put  the  khaki  on  you  —  you'll  grow  into  it 
naturally." 

"  Grow  into  it  naturally."  Tom  Gilstar  had  no  idea 
what  that  might  mean. 

"  How  about  a  uniform  for  this  young  man?  " 

"  Oh,  that's  easy.  It's  the  medium  sizes  we're  hard 
up  for.  We've  got  outsizes  to  burn,  captain." 

Somebody  came  up  and  grasped  Tom  Gilstar  by 
the  hand.  It  was  a  little,  hooknosed,  pale  fellow  he 
had  never  seen  before.  "  I'm  enlisting  too,"  explained 
the  stranger.  "  You  passed  ?  " 

Tom  nodded. 

A  gleam  of  joy  was  in  the  pale  fellow's  face.  He 
walked  aside  with  Tom  and  spurted  out  his  triumph, 
as  though  he  could  contain  it  no  longer.  "  Sh !  I 
fooled  "em,"  said  the  youth.  "  I  was  turned  down  for 
life  insurance,  but  I  got  by  this  examiner  —  and  I'm  in ! 
Once  I'm  in,  they  can't  kick  me  out,  can  they?"  he 
added  anxiously. 

Tom  gazed  at  the  stranger  with  wide  open  mouth. 
There  were  actually  fellows  who  wanted  to  go  to  war, 
then?  Who  felt  badly  if  they  weren't  allowed  to? 
He  hadn't  dreamed  of  it  —  and  yet  —  Sherry  had  gone 
of  his  own  accord. 

Thus  went  Tom  Gilstar  to  the  war  —  or,  at  least, 
thus  he  entered  the  active  service  of  his  country. 

It  was  a  wonder  in  Tredick.  It  was  slightly  shaded, 
as  a  monstrosity,  however,  by  the  news  that  got  abroad, 
that  Miss  Prudence  Perkins  had  disappeared  from 
town,  telling  nobody  except  her  business  advisers, 


no  KHAKI 

where  she  was  going.  The  two  wonders,  coming  to 
gether,  shook  Tredick  from  end  to  end.  What  would 
happen  next? 

Tredick  was  not  superstitious  —  not  really  —  not 
slavishly.  And  yet,  Tredick,  for  years,  had  been  in 
the  habit  of  predicting  that  great  events  happen  in 
cycles  of  three.  Let  lightning  strike  a  place  twice  - 
Tredick  would  say,  "  It  will  strike  once  more  —  those 
things  go  in  threes."  If  a  man  had  two  great  misfor 
tunes,  Tredick  would  cluck  meditatively  and  say, 
"  Poor  fellow,  he'll  have  another  —  those  things  al 
ways  go  in  threes." 

Tredick  now  held  its  breath.  These  things  always 
go  in  threes.  Tom  Gilstar,  the  man  who  had  admitted, 
tacitly,  that  he  was  a  coward,  had  enlisted  in  the  army. 
Miss  Perkins,  the  richest  woman  in  the  county,  had 
mysteriously  gone  away.  There  must  be  three  things. 
What  next  ? 


NOT  one  person  in  Tredick  doubted  for  a  moment 
that  Tom  Gilstar  had  enlisted  in  the  army  as  the  result 
of  an  uncontrollable  burst  of  patriotism.  Only  Tom 
Gilstar  himself  knew  that  he  had,  in  a  tragic-comic 
way,  jockeyed  himself  into  it,  by  trying  to  avoid  it. 
So  the  first  net  result  was  that,  within  twenty-four 
hours  after  it  was  announced  that  Tom  would  go  to 
war,  four  other  young  men  walked  into  the  recruiting 
office  and  signed  up  with  Uncle  Sam.  For  it  is  not 
much  otherwise  with  enlistment  than  with  ringing  the 
canes  at  the  county  fair;  let  one  bold  adventurer  start 
the  game  and  others  are  sure  to  follow. 

Tredick  was  intensely  aroused ;  Tredick  was  incred 
ulous  as  yet ;  Tredick  scarcely  believed  its  own  eyes 
when,  five  days  afterward,  Tom  Gilstar  came  back  to 
Tredick  to  put  in  another  ten  days  as  constable  before 
he  went  into  camp.  He  had  gone  away  a  big,  good- 
looking  fellow  in  a  blue  suit  of  clothes,  a  brown  felt 
hat,  and  a  starched  collar.  He  came  back  a  bigger, 
better  looking  fellow  in  khaki  —  not  as  yet  soldierly  in 
manner ;  no  —  but  a  Tom  Gilstar  who,  when  he  walked 
down  the  main  street,  was  no  longer  glanced  at  with  a 
tolerant  smile,  as  though  everybody  knew  his  failing, 
as  though  it  was  too  commonly  known  that  he  was  a 
bit  of  a  coward,  to  make  it  worth  the  comment. 

Mrs.  Gilstar  sobbed  luxuriously  when  she  saw  her 
big  son  in  khaki ;  she  cried  delightedly  every  time  he 
left  the  house  or  entered  it,  almost  every  time  she 
looked  at  him.  It  harrowed  Tom's  nerves  frightfully; 
but  he  said  nothing.  He  tried  to  suppress  that  inevi- 


ii2  KHAKI 

table  shudder  when  the  proud  little  woman  held  him 
out  at  arm's  length  and  looked  him  up  and  down  and 
said,  devoutly,  "  Oh,  Tom,  if  your  father  could  only 
see  you!  How  happy  he  would  be!  And  perhaps  he 
does  see  you." 

It  was  pleasanter  to  be  with  Antonia ;  Tom  made  the 
most  of  that.  In  the  girl's  eyes  sparkled  all  that  for 
givable  little  vanity  of  a  young  woman  who  has  a 
sweetheart  at  whom  all  the  rest  of  the  world  is  looking 
-  jealously,  preferred,  of  course.  Those  delicious 
moments  —  a  new  and  wonderful  world  to  the  big 
fellow  —  when  'Tony's  eyes  opened  wide  and  revealed 
to  him  all  her  fragrant  soul,  almost  made  him  forget 
his  fears.  But  they  came  back  again  after  he  left  her. 
Perhaps  they  came  back  with  redoubled  force  just 
because  he  had  neglected  them  —  and  he  was  ill  at  ease, 
reticent  and  leaden  at  heart. 

There  were  yet  three  more  days  before  Tom  was  to 
leave  Tredick.  It  was  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon, 
and  Henry  Hobgood  was  celebrating  his  usual  daily 
grouch  to  the  people  who  appeared  at  the  postoffice 
window  for  the  just-sorted  mail.  The  little  white- 
whiskered  hornet  glared  through  the  window,  as  if  dar 
ing  anybody  and  everybody  to  step  up  and  be  stung. 

"  Parcel  post,  is  it?  "  he  snapped.  "  Oh,  yes,  we've 
got  parcel  post.  We've  got  oceans  of  it.  We  can't 
move  in  here  without  tripping  over  parcel  post.  I 
s'pose  yours  is  a  lawn-mower  or  a  washing-machine?  " 

"  No,  thir,"  answered  a  little  miss  outside,  "  'ith  a 
thetting  of  duck-eggth  Aunt  Mary  thed  the'd  thend 
mamma." 

"Aha!"  clucked  Henry,  with  uncanny  glee.  "A 
setting  of  duck-eggs,  is  it!  Here  it  is!  "  He  plunked 
down  a  frayed  and  evil-looking  wreck  on  the  counter, 
lifted  the  grating  and  shoved  it  out.  There  was  a 


KHAKI  113 

coloring  of  coagulated  yellow  matter  oozing  from  the 
package.  "  You  tell  your  ma  that  the  guv'ment  has 
sot  on  her  duck  eggs  and  hatched  out  an  egg-nog,"  he 
exulted.  "  I'd  think  folks  would  have  more  sense 
than  to  clutter  up  the  mails  with  duck-eggs.  It  serves 
'em  right !  " 

To  a  courteous  Pole,  a  mill  worker,  who  came  tim 
idly  to  add  to  his  postal  savings  account,  the  postmaster 
said,  shrilly,  clutching  at  the  book  and  money,  "  Huh ! 
Sure  we  do  a  savings-bank  business!  We  do  every 
kind  of  a  business  these  days.  We'll  be  taking  in 
washing  and  ironing  next.  By  jinks,  when  I  was  post 
master  under  Cleveland,  there  warn't  none  of  this 
folderol!  We  was  postmasters,  then.  Now,  by  jinks, 
we're  running  a  department  store !  " 

Then  there  appeared  at  the  window  a  smooth-shaven 
face,  unknown  to  Mr.  Hobgood.  A  pair  of  very 
placid  eyes  looked  at  the  postmaster  swiftly,  and  a 
pleasant,  suave  voice  asked,  "  Are  you  the  postmas 
ter?" 

"  Yes,  what  d'ye  want  ?  "  was  the  challenging  re 
joinder. 

A  smile  uncovered  the  teeth  of  the  visitor.  "  I 
want  you,"  was  the  reply.  "  Come  out  here  a  minute. 
I  want  to  speak  with  you." 

The  words  were  uttered  with  perfect  good  nature, 
but  in  a  way  which  indicated  that  the  stranger  was  not 
inclined  to  stand  any  fooling,  and  that  he  was  accus 
tomed  to  be  obeyed.  Henry  Hobgood  eyed  him  iras 
cibly,  and  muttered,  "  All  right,  I'll  be  out  pretty  soon." 

"  You'll  be  out  sooner  than  that,"  was  the  still  smil 
ing  response,  with  the  same  covert  threat  about  it. 
"  This  is  on  government  business."  Mr.  Hobgood  re 
plied  by  grasping  his  hat  and  going  out  in  the  front  of 
the  office. 

For  a  moment,   as   they   stood    face   to    face,   the 


ii4  KHAKI 

stranger  rested  with  his  mouth  framed  for  speech  - 
at  the  same  time  staring  at  the  fidgety  old  man.     He 
evidently  concluded  not  to  say  what  he  had  in  mind, 
and  substituted  :     "  Who  is  your  police  officer  —  dep 
uty-sheriff —  whatever  you  have,  in  this  village?" 

"  Who  be  you?  "  asked  Henry.  He  had  been  sizing 
up  the  stranger  carefully.  Something  about  his  man 
ner  betokened  an  officer  of  the  law;  but  his  clothes 
were  those  of  a  well-dressed  traveling  salesman;  there 
was  something  even  "  sporty  "  about  the  man. 

For  reply,  the  man  took  Henry  by  the  arm  and  led 
him  aside.  A  moment  afterward,  Mr.  Hobgood's 
eyes  bulged  somewhat,  and  were  larger  than  before. 
"  Oh,"  he  gasped,  mollifyingly,  "  why  didn't  you  tell 
me  ?  -  -  Why,  we've  got  a  constable  here.  His  name 
is  Tom  Gilstar.  But  he  won't  be  constable  long  —  he's 
enlisted  in  the  army." 

"  Is  that  so  ?     Where  does  he  live  ?  " 

"  He'd  probably  be  up  home  now.  He  don't  come 
down  town,  till  he  goes  on  duty,  since  he  joined  the 
army."  Mr.  Hobgood  was  titillating  up  and  down  in 
anxiety.  "  There  —  there  ain't  no  suspicion  that  I 
ain't  all  right  in  my  work?"  he  quavered. 

"  Oh,  no ;  that  is,  I  don't  know  anything  about  that. 
This  is  something  different.  Not  important  —  not  im 
portant  —  a  mere  trifle.  You  just  give  me  the  way  up 
to  —  what's  his  name  —  Gil-star?  —  and  I'll  call  on 
him  later." 

But  having  been  directed  to  the  GilstaT  home,  the 
stranger  lost  no  time  in  getting  there.  Tom  himself 
came  to  the  door. 

"  You're  the  man  I  want  to  see,"  said  the  stranger, 
with  one  appreciative  look  at  the  big  fellow.  "  You're 
Tom  Gilstar?  The  constable?" 

Tom  nodded.     "  Put  on  your  hat  and  come  out," 


KHAKI  115 

went  on  the  man.  And  as  Tom  hesitated  in  surprise, 
he  added,  "  Oh,  my  name  is  Cracknell.  I'm  a  post- 
office  inspector,  Gilstar.  Is  —  that  —  good  enough?  " 

Tom  nodded  quickly,  at  sight  of  the  metal  creden 
tials.  As  Cracknell  buttoned  his  coat  again,  Tom  said, 
"  I'll  come  right  along." 

"  We  needn't  go  any  farther,"  began  the  inspector, 
when  they  were  in  the  front  yard.  "  Here's  a  seat  that 
will  be  all  right."  He  pointed  to  a  rustic  settee  under 
a  big  tree.  "  I  just  wanted  to  get  out  in  the  open, 
that's  all.  Now,  listen.  The  postoffice  in  Tredick, 
here,  may  be  entered  to-night.  Does  that  interest 
you  ? "  He  smiled  as  he  asked  the  question,  and 
tapped  his  tooth-brush-bristles  mustache  with  the  ends 
of  his  fingers. 

Tom  Gilstar's  eyes  replied  that  it  did  interest  him, 
and  then  he  stammered,  "  But  —  but  not  —  not  really, 
Mr.  Cracknell  ?  You  don't  mean  it  ?  " 

"  I  said  it  may  be,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  don't  know. 
I'm  up  a  tree,  Gilstar,  I've  got  a  stool  working  for  me 
with  a  bunch  of  yeggs,  and  I'm  not  sure  whether  he's 
on  the  level,  or  giving  me  the  double-cross.  See  ?  " 

"  A  stool  —  with  a  bunch  of  yeggs  -  '  repeated 
Tom.  "I  —  don't  know  as  I  quite  understand  you, 
Mr.  Cracknell.  I'm  not  —  up  on  those  things,  you 
might  say.  You  see,  nothing  ever  happens  in  Tred 
ick." 

Quite  unconsciously,  Tom  had  fallen  into  the  habit 
of  parroting  the  deacon's  favorite  line. 

The  stranger  was  very  pleasant  about  it.  With  a 
tolerant  glance  —  perhaps  a  pitying  glance,  he  went  on, 
explaining,  "  What  I  mean  is,  I've  planted  a  crook  - 
working  for  me  —  understand?  —  among  a  bunch  of 
yeggs  —  you  know  —  who  think  he's  working  with 
them  —  get  me  ?  —  and  he's  reported  in  to  me  —  but 


n6  KHAKI 

something  makes  me  afraid  that  he's  giving  me  the  — 
well,  you  know  —  really  working  with  the  yeggs  — 
damn  it,  you  can  get  that,  Gilstar  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  see  what  you  mean,"  was  the  abashed  an 
swer.  "  Yes,  sir." 

"  All  right.  Now  the  tip  was  that  this  bunch  - 
Louis  the  Blacksmith  is  running  the  party  —  and  he's 
the  best  hand  with  soup  —  you  know  what  I  mean  — 
with  nitroglycerine  —  in  the  East  —  the  tip  was  that 
they  were  to  leave  New  York  last  night — four  of 
them,  not  counting  Jakey  —  he's  my  stool  —  and  leave 
the  train  at  Arber's  Junction.  Then  break  the  Spring- 
haven  postoffice,  which  is  first  class,  back  to  Arber's  in 
a  hired  jitney,  then  across  country  to  a  place  where  they 
can  dig  in  for  the  night,  then  strike  the  line  of  the  B.  C 
&  L.  at  Spofford,  and  back  to  New  York  and  under 
cover.  Get  jt?  Now  that  isn't  all.  I  dope  it  from 
what  Jakey  says  that  two  of  the  bunch  will  split  off  in 
Arber  and  break  either  Tredick  or  Valentine  —  maybe 
both  if  they  have  luck,  meet  up  with  the  rest  at  the 
hangout,  wherever  it  is,  and  go  back  together.  That's 
where  you  come  in.  That's  why  I  say,  may.  You 
grab  the  idea,  don't  you?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  think  I  do.  But  maybe,  as  you  say, 
that  fellow  isn't  telling  you  the  truth  —  and  maybe 
they  won't  really  come."  It  was  evident  that  Tom's 
wish  was  father  to  this  inspiration. 

"  Ho,  don't  you  bet  anything  on  that,  my  boy.  They 
left  New  York  last  night  all  right  —  my  partner, 
Teague,  and  myself,  came  up  with  them  on  the  train. 
Teague  is  down  at  Arber  now." 

"  But  if  you  were  on  the  same  train  with  them,  and 
knew  who  they  were,  why  didn't  you  arrest  them 
then  ?  "  asked  Tom,  in  wonder. 

For  reply  he  got  a  really  pitying  glance  this  time. 


KHAKI  117 

"  Because,  Gilstar,  I'm  not  pinching  anybody  to  bring 
up  before  a  Federal  judge  and  say,  '  Please  Mister 
Judge,  this  man  has  a  bad  record  and  I  think  he's  going 
to  hurt  somebody  if  we  don't  send  him  away.'  You 
may  put  that  stuff  over  in  your  local  police  court,  Gil- 
star,  but  Mister  Federal  Judge  would  give  you  the 
glassy  eye  and  say,  '  What  has  the  gentleman  done  ?  ' 
You  say,  '  Nothing.'  Then  you  beat  it  out  of  court  in 
a  hurry  before  you  get  eleven  years  for  wasting  his 
Honor's  valuable  time,  see  ?  " 

Tom  Gilstar  didn't  see.  But  he  nodded  his  head  in 
hopeless  abandon,  while  Cracknell  went  on,  in  a  mel 
lower  vein : 

"  Oh,  we've  got  the  chance  of  our  lives,  if  Jakey 
hasn't  double-crossed  us,  Gilstar.  We'll  round  up  that 
bunch  with  the  bells  on.  It'll  seem  like  music  to  send 
Louis  the  Blacksmith  up  the  river  again.  Louis  and 
I  are  old  friends,  I  gave  him  a  ride  to  Joliet  when  I 
was  first  in  the  business;  and  I'd  have  had  him  in  At 
lanta  now,  only  for  a  technicality,  for  a  postoffice 
job  in  Ohio  two  years  ago.  Harry  Allen  is  another 
of  the  sweet  crowd.  Then  there  are  two  recruits 
Louis  has  had  in  training.  I  don't  know  as  they've 
even  been  mugged  -  -  Teague  didn't  recognize  'em 
either.  Oh,  it's  soft,  Gilstar,  soft  —  provided  we're 
there  to  meet  'em  when  they  come  in ;  —  now,  listen. 
This  is  a  fourth  class  office,  like  Valentine.  They 
won't  waste  any  time  here.  I've  got  it  doped  that  they 
have  to  be  here,  if  they  come,  between  eleven  and 
twelve.  Now  you  know  how  they  work,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  gulped  Tom,  in  a  cold  sweat.  "  I  —  don't 
think  so." 

"  Well,  in  a  country  office  job,"  went  on  the  inspec 
tor,  "  they  don't  weigh  themselves  down  with  tools, 
any  more  than  they  have  to  have.  It's  a  hundred  to  one 


u8  KHAKI 

shot  they'll  go  to  the  blacksmith  shop  and  get  what 
rough  iron  they  need.  I  noticed  a  blacksmith  shop 
down  the  line  a  few  blocks.  Is  that  the  only  one  ?  " 

"  There  are  two  more,  but  quite  a  ways  out  of  the 
village." 

"  Well,  they'll  use  this  one,  probably.  You  may  see 
them  when  they  go  in  there.  If  you  do,  don't  bother 
them.  Let  'em  have  what  they  want,  and  let  'em  get 
into  the  postoffice  before  you  jump  'em.  You  want 
'em  on  Federal  property,  understand  ?  —  Lemme  see 
your  gun !  " 

With  a  trembling  hand,  Tom  produced  his  pistol. 

"  Old  fashioned  cannon !  "  commented  Cracknell. 
"  That's  all  the  better.  These  automatics  have  their 
drawbacks,  Gilstar."  The  inspector  broke  open  the 
revolver  with  a  practiced  hand,  and  squinted  through 
the  barrel.  "  You  ought  to  keep  it  clean,"  he  said, 
"but  never  mind  —  if  you  use  it  to-night,  you  can 
swab  it  out  with  a  few  chunks  of  lead. —  Now,  when 
I  came  into  the  postoffice  a  while  ago,  I  was  going 
to  tell  your  postmaster  about  it,  and  have  you  two  work 
together.  But  as  soon  as  I  lamped  him,  I  saw  that  old 
goat  would  queer  us  to  a  fareyouwell.  He's  a  human 
guinea-hen,  Gilstar,  I  can  see  that.  He  wouldn't  let 
'em  get  within  a  mile  of  the  office  —  and  we  don't 
want  to  scare  'em,  we  want  to  pinch  'em,  see  -  And 
let  me  say  right  here,  Gilstar,  that  if  you  make  this 
pinch,  you  get  all  the  credit  for  it.  I'm  not  like  one 
of  these  city  bulls  hogging  all  the  headlines.  Oh,  man, 
you've  got  the  chance  of  your  life.  You're  going  into 
the  army  —  you've  got  the  uniform  on  —  why,  Gil- 
star,  they'll  make  you  an  officer  on  the  rep  you'll  get 
out  of  this.  Believe  me,  I'll  boost  for  you." 

"  I'm  —  afraid  I'm  not  equal  to  this  sort  of  thing. 
You  see— I- 

"  Aw,  you'll  be  great !  "  was  the  cheerful  response. 


KHAKI  119 

"  The  minute  I  looked  at  you,  Gilstar,  I  says  to  myself, 
'  This  boy  is  good.  He's  the  quiet  kind  that  don't 
throw  out  his  chest  and  wear  a  badge  as  big  as  a  pie- 
plate,  but  he's  big  enough  to  strangle  an  ox,  and  he 
would  probably  bite  'em  to  death  if  he  wasn't  dragged 
off.' '  Cracknell  dug  the  big  fellow  cheerily  in  the 
ribs  as  he  said  this,  and  gazed  at  the  khaki  figure  ap 
provingly. 

"  Now,  get  me  right,  Gilstar.  This  dope  may  be  all 
wrong.  It  may  be  they  won't  hit  either  here  or  Valen 
tine.  The  Springhaven  office  is  the  big  game,  and 
there's  where  I'm  going  to  be.  Arber  is  first  class, 
and  Teague  will  be  there. —  But  —  if  they  do  come  this 
way,  well,  here's  my  advice : 

''  You  better  pick  out  some  good  man  you  can  trust, 
here  in  Tredick,  and  have  him  along  with  you.  You'd 
probably  rather  have  all  the  credit  —  I  know  how  a 
young  fellow  feels  —  I've  been  there  —  but  all  the 
same  you'd  better  have  a  reliable  man  posted  where 
you  can  use  him  quick  —  because  these  are  bad  men, 
Gilstar  —  and  don't  you  forget  that. 

'  You  may  have  to  use  your  gun,  too.  And  let  me 
tell  you,  Gilstar,  if  you  do  use  it,  don't  use  it  to 
frighten.  You  can't  scare  these  birds.  If  you  shoot, 
shoot  to  kill.  If  you  don't  kill,  they'll  kill.  Under 
stand  that.  I've  seen  soft  hearted  and  sentimental 
cops  in  my  day  —  they're  all  dead  now,  and  the  cut 
flowers  are  dried  up.  So  if  you  tackle  this  alone  — 
I  advise  you  not  to  —  and  see  yourself  getting  in 
wrong  —  you  better  croak  one  of  your  men,  and  then 
the  other  will  be  easier.  If  you  want  me  to,  I'll  send 
up  a  local  man  from  Springhaven  to  help  you  —  in 
case  —  eh?  " 

"  I'm  —  I'm  afraid  I'm  not  equal  to  a  thing  —  like 
this,"  said  Tom,  in  a  voice  he  scarcely  recognized  as 
his  own. 


120  KHAKI 

Cracknell  wheeled  and  looked  at  the  big  fellow. 
"  You  don't  tell  me  you're  yellow  —  got  a  yellow 
streak?  "  he  whipped  out,  sharply  and  suspiciously. 

"No,  no,"  was  the  quick  response.  "No,  sir!  — 
I'll  do  my  best,  Mr.  Cracknell."  And  as  he  spoke, 
Tom  was  startled  at  his  own  decision,  implied  in  those 
words.  Never  before,  when  the  suggestion  had  been 
thrown  at  him,  sneeringly,  that  he  lacked  courage,  had 
he  thought  it  worth  while  to  deny  it.  He  had  always 
taken  the  imputation  lying  down  —  what  was  the  use  ? 

But  now  —  was  it  because  those  sharp  eyes  of  the 
inspector  were  upon  his  khaki  uniform?  Was  it  be 
cause  he  was  in  a  position  where  there  was  no  retreat  ? 
For  whatever  reason,  a  little  wave  of  strength  and  de 
termination  rolled  in  upon  Tom  Gilstar;  and  he  listened 
now  as  though  he  were  a  police  officer  in  purpose  as 
well  as  in  name. 

Cracknell  looked  at  his  watch.  "  Well,  I've  got  to 
get  out  of  here!"  he  said.  "I  put  this  up  to  you, 
Gilstar.  Maybe  nothing  will  happen  here.  But  if 
they  come  this  way  - 

Then  he  gave  final  and  explicit  directions  as  to 
what  should  be  done,  both  in  cornering  and  arresting 
the  criminals,  and  afterward.  A  few  minutes  after 
ward  the  inspector  was  gone,  and  Tom  went  weakly 
into  the  house.  He  went  up  to  his  room  and  sat  down 
on  the  edge  of  the  bed.  He  wanted  to  be  absolutely 
alone  for  a  while.  His  whole  knowledge  of  values,  as 
he  had  learned  them  in  a  very  sheltered  and  polite 
school,  was  worthless. 

He  was  not  only  going  to  war  —  which  he  dreaded  : 
he  was  going  to  kill  a  man,  perhaps,  this  very  night ! 
It  was  war,  on  a  small  scale  —  in  Tredick  where  noth 
ing  ever  happened.  It  didn't  occur  to  him  at  first 
that  the  man  or  the  men  might  kill  him.  He  merely 
went  back  to  his  earliest  horror  of  violence. 


KHAKI  121 

This  was  war  in  Tredick.  Certainly  it  was.  The 
same  principles  were  involved  as  in  that  murderous  tor 
nado  which  was  sweeping  over  the  whole  world.  Here 
were  men  who  did  not  want  to  live  in  peace  and  honor, 
as  Tom  Gilstar  did.  They  preferred  to  get  a  living  by 
robbery  —  and  murder  if  necessary.  There,  in  Eu 
rope  was  a  nation  —  the  Prussians  —  who  preferred 
not  to  live  in  peace  and  honor,  or  to  advance  them 
selves  by  innocent  arts  —  but  who  had  decided  to 
bludgeon  their  way  over  the  maimed  bodies  of  men, 
women  and  children  toward  a  goal  of  conquest. 
Should  the  other  nations  let  them  do  it?  If  so,  then 
why  should  Tredick  be  unwilling  to  let  its  money  be 
taken  and  its  homes  be  burned  and  its  women  and  chil 
dren  tortured,  at  the  hands  of  a  couple  of  robbers? 

Tom  Gilstar  had  never  used  oaths  very  much.  But 
now,  in  his  mental  torment  he  swore,  and  swore  with 
a  sense  of  awfulness.  "  By  God  !  "  he  murmured,  with 
clenched  fists,  "  the  only  thing  of  any  use  any  more  is 
to  prevent  such  things : — 

And  how  ?  He  had  no  answer  for  that.  But  some 
thing  had  dawned  upon  him;  something  which  made 
him  feel  older  —  not  happier  —  and  stronger ;  and  it 
was  the  truth  that  the  only  peace  mankind  has  ever 
had,  has  been  bought  with  the  suffering  of  strife. 

"  Oh,  why  can't  they  be  honest  and  decent  and  mer 
ciful?  "  something  within  Tom  Gilstar  moaned.  And 
the  pitiless  answer  was  : 

"  But  they  are  not !     What  then?  " 

It  lay  on  the  bed  beside  him.  A  revolver.  Its 
bright  metal  gleamed  up  at  him  innocently  enough,  as 
if  it  were  a  toy  —  as  indeed  a  Belgian  baby  would 
take  it  to  be,  when  it  was  pointed  at  its  brown  eyes  by 
a  Hun.  And  yet  —  it  was  a  thing  that,  in  a  second, 
would  stop  a  human  heart. 

Must  that  thing  —  that  weapon,  always  be  the  ar- 


122  KHAKI 

biter  of  disputes  between  man  and  man?     Then  where 
was  boasted  Progress?     Where  was  Civilization? 

And  there  came  then  the  answer,  out  of  the  fog  of 
doubts  and  jumbled  traditions  and  jangled  nervous 
reactions : 

Yes  —  and  no.  Yes  —  that  thing  —  that  weapon 
must  be  the  arbiter  so  long  as  there  are  people  —  so 
long  as  there  is  one  man  —  in  the  world,  who  under 
stands  no  decision  except  that.  So  long  as  there  is  a 
nation  without  honor,  without  mercy,  without  any 
other  conception  of  human  destiny  except  that  which 
may  be  won  by  Force  —  then  that  thing,  there,  is  the 
arbiter. 

But  the  world  had  been  growing  away  from  that  — 
and  there  is  such  a  thing  as  Progress  —  and  the  most 
that  any  murderer  or  murderers  or  nation  or  hunnish 
marauders  can  do,  is  to  delay  the  march  of  Progress 
and  Humanity.  There  is  still  a  hope,  far  distant 
though  it  be,  for  a  world  of  honor  and  decent  aspira 
tion  toward  justice  — 

—  and  to  get  to  it,  Tom  Gilstar,  you  will  learn  to 
kill! 

Those  were  the  ideas  that  were  reeling  through  Tom 
Gilstar's  head  as  he  sat  on  the  edge  of  his  bed.  He 
got  up  and  shook  himself,  threw  back  his  shoulders 
and  looked  in  the  glass.  He  had  never  seen  himself 
in  the  mirror  before.  Looked  at  himself  —  oh,  yes. 
But  he  had  never  seen  himself.  He  was  really  quite 
an  old  man,  he  thought. 

"  Good  night,  mother,  I'm  going  now,"  he  said  as 
he  left  the  sitting-room. 

"  Your  voice  sounds  queer,"  said  his  mother,  with 
out  considering  it  seriously,  though. 

"  Does  it?  Well,  I'm  not  the  man  you  think  I  am," 
thought  Gilstar,  as  he  passed  out. 

Tom    wondered    as    he    walked    down    the    street 


KHAKI  123 

whether  he  ought  to  get  any  one  to  help  him  —  and 
if  so,  who  would  it  be?  He  thought  of  a  number  of 
men  —  but  they  seemed,  for  the  first  time  since  he  had 
known  them,  to  be  lacking  in  something  needed.  Im 
mediately  there  flashed  across  him  the  notion  that  to 
seek  another  man  to  help  him  would  be  abetting  some 
cowardice  within  him  still. 

No  —  alone !  That  was  better.  Alone !  If  he  was 
a  coward,  nobody  in  Tredick  would  ever  know  it.  And 
if  he  were  not  a  coward,  a  man  with  the  strength  of 
right  in  his  arm  ought  not  worry  about  two  men  with 
the  consciousness  of  wrong  in  their  heads. 

As  Tom  Giistar  was  passing  the  dry-goods  store 
lately  purchased  by  Deacon  Bradshaw,  some  one  ran 
out  behind  him  and  uttered  his  name. 

It  was  Alice  Bradshaw.  She  was  breathing  hard, 
as  though  she  had  been  running  after  him  for  a  long 
distance,  and  there  was  a  troubled,  wondering  look  in 
her  eyes  which  Tom  observed  at  once. 

"  Tom,  I'm  sorry  to  bother  you  —  it  may  be  such  a 
foolish  question  —  I  can't  help  asking  you,  though.     Is 
-  your  brother  Sheridan  —  has  he  come  home?  " 

Tom  stared  at  the  girl.  "Sherry?  Why,  no,  Alice. 
What  in  the  world  made  you  think  — 

'  Tom,  please  don't  say  a  word  to  any  one,  will  you  ? 
I  can  trust  you,  Tom,  I  know  I  can.  I'm  not  sure  — 
but  when  father  and  I  were  driving  home  this  after 
noon,  from  Valentine,  I  saw  two  men  near  the  road, 
just  below  the  blacksmith  shop.  One  of  them  looked 
like  Sherry.  I  didn't  see  his  face ;  but  don't  you  know, 
Tom,  you  sort  of  remember  how  people  look  —  as  a 
whole  —  you  know.  Perhaps  it  wasn't  him.  But  I 
thought  I'd  ask  you." 

Tom  Giistar  shook  his  head.  "  No,  I'm  sure  it 
couldn't  have  been,"  he  answered. 

But  as  he  walked  on,  his  nerves  tingled  and  the  blood 


124  KHAKI 

came  rushing  into  his  head  and  making  his  ears  sing. 
Two  men  near  the  blacksmith  shop !  Two  strange 
men  they  must  have  been  —  otherwise  Alice  would 
have  known  them.  Cracknell  had  said  - 

"They're    here!"    gasped    Tom    Gilstar.     "  Now, 
then!" 


XI 

THE  clock  in  the  woollen-mill  struck  twelve ;  and  left 
behind  it  that  noisy  silence  which  always  follows  the 
breaking  of  silence.  A  few  moments  afterward  Tom 
Gilstar,  for  the  second  time,  went  down  the  little  alley 
way  on  the  North  side  of  the  postoffice  building,  and 
unlocking  the  side-door,  let  himself  into  the  rear  of 
the  postoffice.  It  was  quiet  inside;  the  only  noise  was 
that  of  a  mouse  scurrying  away  under  a  pile  of  mail 
sacks. 

The  rear  part  of  the  office  was  just  as  it  had  been  left 
when  Henry  Hobgood  locked  up.  From  the  ceiling, 
about  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  hung  a  single  in 
candescent  lamp,  with  a  green-enameled  conical  shade. 
Under  this  was  a  long  sorting-board,  where  the  rural 
routes  were  made  up.  Directly  across  from  the  door 
where  Tom  entered,  was  another  door,  never  used, 
which  opened  into  the  rear  part  of  the  Tredick  Cash 
Market.  This  door  was  bolted  and  barred.  A  big 
old-fashioned  safe  was  beside  this  door.  The  one  elec 
tric  lamp  in  the  middle  of  the  room  was  always  left 
burning  at  night. 

Having  satisfied  himself  that  the  office  had  not  been 
disturbed,  Tom  Gilstar  went  out  again,  and  walked 
slowly  toward  the  station.  Two  very  distinct  notions 
were  in  his  head.  One  was  a  feeling  of  relief  at  the 
thought  that  eleven  o'clock  had  passed,  and  nothing 
had  happened.  '  They're  not  coming  after  all !  "  was 
his  natural  ejaculation. 

But  the  other  notion  was  a  strong,  unaccountable 

125 


126  KHAKI 

intuition  that  some  strange  men  were  already  in  the 
village.  True,  he  had  seen  no  one.  He  had  gone  to 
the  blacksmith  shop,  and  found  it,  so  far  as  he  could 
ascertain,  untouched.  It  might  have  been,  of  course, 
that  this  feeling  was  due  to  the  words  of  Alice  Brad- 
shaw.  But  the  notion,  however  it  originated,  was  so 
insistent  that  when  Gilstar  walked  toward  the  station, 
he  went  that  way  with  the  express  purpose  of  throwing 
whatever  eyes  might  be  watching  him,  off  their  guard. 
And,  instead  of  going  to  the  station  he  jumped  quickly 
aside  in  a  dark  spot,  passed  between  two  houses,  vaulted 
a  low  fence,  and  came  out  in  the  rear  of  the  postoflice 
again.  Again  he  went  to  the  side-door,  put  the  key  in 
the  lock,  and  before  turning  it,  paused  to  listen. 

Meanwhile,  during  that  short  trip  of  the  constable, 
something  had  happened  on  the  other  side  of  the  post- 
office  building. 

First,  the  sliding  door  that  led  into  the  delivery  shed 
of  the  Cash  Market  had  slid  gently  back.  A  moment 
afterward  there  was  a  scraping  and  cutting  sound  at 
the  unused  postoffice  door.  Soon  afterward  a  whole 
sash  of  the  soft-pine  door  was  out.  There  were  two 
iron  bars,  the  flat  flanges  of  which  were  screwed  into 
the  doorframe  on  the  postoffice  side.  A  long  iron  bar 
ripped  one  end  of  these  bars  out  of  the  wood  as  though 
the  screws  had  been  in  putty.  Then  the  bolt  slid  back, 
and  two  men  stepped  into  the  postoffice. 

"  Well,  here's  where  they  read  the  postcards !  "  said 
a  voice,  jocularly. 

"How  about  that  light?  Here's  the  button,"  said 
another  voice. 

"  No,  don't  touch  that !  You  can't  see  anything 
from  the  street.  That  light  is  always  left  on." 

"  It's  kind  of  handy  to  know  the  lay  of  the  land." 

"  Yeh. —  Get  a  lot  of  those  empty  sacks  over  there 
and  that  rug  in  front  of  the  desk.  All  right,  put  the 


KHAKI  127 

bag  down.  We'll  have  to  work  fast  to  get  back  by 
one-thirty.1' 

So,  when  Tom  Gilstar  came  back  to  the  side-door  of 
the  postoffice,  for  the  third  time,  and  put  his  key  in 
the  lock,  and  stood  there  listening,  he  thought  he  heard 
low  voices  within,  and  the  movement  of  feet  across  the 
floor.  He  was  not  sure.  His  own  heart  spoke  rap 
idly;  and  it  might  have  been  that.  He  turned  the  key 
and  opened  the  door.  As  he  did  so,  there  was  a 
"  sssst!  "  from  some  one  inside,  and  the  next  moment 
he  was  facing  two  figures  crouched  beside  the  safe. 

The  light  from  the  one  incandescent  lamp  was  suf 
ficient  to  show  the  figures  of  the  men,  and  to  indicate 
that  all  preparations  were  made  for  blowing  the  safe. 
It  did  not  reveal  the  features  of  the  men,  who  were  in 
the  half-shade  back  of  the  light. 

What  happened  then,  happened  so  quickly  that  a 
more  inexperienced  man  than  Tom  Gilstar  would  have 
been  equally  helpless.  For,  as  the  big  fellow's  bulk 
loomed  in  the  doorway  —  he  was  wearing  a  long  light 
raincoat,  such  as  he  always  wore  on  these  yet  chilly 
nights,  and  he  had  his  revolver  in  the  right  hand  pocket 
—  a  voice  said,  quickly,  "  The  light !  "  And  in  a  flash 
one  of  the  men  had  reached  up  to  the  button  on  the 
wall  beside  the  safe,  which  operated  the  drop  lamp 
from  the  ceiling. 

The  room  went  into  utter  darkness.  There,  on  one 
side  of  the  room,  were  two  men,  confident  of  their 
advantage ;  and  on  the  other  side  Tom  Gilstar,  strain 
ing  his  eyes  uselessly  against  the  blackness.  He  might 
have  turned  quickly  and  retreated  through  the  door 
way.  Somehow  he  never  thought  of  that.  Instead, 
he  cried,  in  a  voice  which  sounded  in  his  own  ears  piti 
fully  unsteady : 

"Who's  there?" 

For  answer,  a  shaft  of  light  jumped  out  of  the  sable 


128  KHAKI 

blanket  before  his  eyes,  and  hit  him  full  in  the  face. 
A  shaft  of  yellow  light,  coming  out  of  nowhere,  as  the 
searchlights  of  river  steamers  sometimes  leap  into  the 
rooms  of  houses  along  the  bank,  made  him  wince.  He 
drew  back  his  head  instinctively,  then  pulled  it  to  one 
side  to  get  out  of  the  light.  But  the  light  followed 
him.  He  could  see  nothing  but  the  incandescent 
twisted  wire  of  the  electric  flash  light;  and  into  that 
yellow  twist  he  had  to  look,  whether  he  wanted  to  or 
not.  The  sweat  came  out  on  his  forehead,  cold.  The 
helplessness  of  his  position  dawned  upon  him.  Noth 
ing  in  that  room  was  visible  except  his  face ;  and  the 
men  on  the  other  side  of  the  room  had  him  at  their 
mercy.  If  they  wanted  to  shoot,  he  had  no  more 
chance  than  a  butterfly  in  the  net  of  a  collector.  They 
could  pluck  him  at  will.  He  felt  that  his  eyes  were 
staring  wildly  and  foolishly,  like  the  eyes  of  people  he 
had  seen  in  flashlight  pictures.  For  an  instant  his 
mind  seemed  to  detach  itself  from  within  him,  and  he 
could  even  see  his  own  face,  held  brutally  and  singly 
into  the  foreground  —  spotted  sharply  as  though  it 
were  thrust  from  a  curtain. 

Then,  with  a  shock  that  couldn't  have  been  caused 
by  the  report  of  a  gun,  there  came  out  of  the  silent 
gloom  a  laugh.  It  was  not  an  ill-natured  laugh,  but  it 
sounded  horrible.  And  a  voice  said,  "  That's  enough, 
Hop!  Turn  on  that  light.  There's  nothing  to  be 
afraid  of!" 

There  was  a  snap  of  the  button,  and  the  room  was 
flooded  with  light.  And,  with  eyes  that  still  stared 
with  straining  eagerness,  Tom  Gilstar  was  looking  into 
the  face  of  his  brother,  Sherry  Gilstar. 

Both  the  men  had  risen.  There  was  a  grin  on 
Sherry's  face.  There  was  a  watchful,  suspicious, 
ready  —  but  complacent  —  look  on  the  face  of  the 
other  man.  But  on  Tom  Gilstar's  face  there  was  a 


KHAKI  129 

picture  of  the  unbelief,  the  helpless  recognition,  the 
utter  loss  of  self-possession,  that  was  in  the  big  fellow's 
soul.  He  articulated  the  word,  "Sherry!"  but  he 
might  as  well  have  uttered  any  word.  He  had  come 
to  face  two  criminals  who  were  going  to  rob  the  post- 
office  —  and  he  was  gazing  into  the  face  of  his  own 
brother. 

The  fact  that  each  of  the  men  had  a  revolver  in  his 
hand,  made  no  difference  to  Tom  Gilstar  then.  He 
had  a  pistol  in  his  own  rain-coat  pocket,  which  he 
couldn't  have  used  had  he  known  it  would  save  his 
own  life.  His  brother!  Sherry! 

Then  came  Sherry  Gilstar's  voice,  not  harsh,  but 
carrying  that  old-time  sneer  which  he  had  so  often 
used  in  addressing  Tom  : 

"  Put  your  gat  on  the  safe,  Hop !  We  don't  want 
to  hurt  him,  you  know.  If  you  don't  hold  it,  you 
won't  use  it." 

As  he  said  this,  Sherry  calmly  laid  his  own  revolver 
down  on  top  of  the  safe.  Hop  Murray  followed  suit, 
and  then  looked  inquiringly  at  Sherry. 

"  Sherry !  "  repeated  Tom  Gilstar,  with  effort. 
"  You  —  it  can't  be  - 

"  Yes,  it  is,  Tommy,  old  boy,"  was  the  reply,  with 
a  tinge  of  bravado.  "  I  didn't  expect  you'd  be  around. 
I  didn't  think  you'd  have  the  sand  to  come  in,  even 
if  you  saw  us  here.  You  must  be  improving." 

The  sneer  was  unheard.  "  Sherry !  "  was  the  only 
reply.  "I  can't  believe  it!  Not  you!  They  told 
me- 

"  Oh,  don't  get  scared,"  went  on  the  older  brother. 
"  I  wouldn't  hurt  you  for  the  world.  But  don't  you 
begin  to  preach  to  me.  I  don't  want  to  hear  anything 
about  what  a  terrible  man  I  am,  and  how  the  church 
people  will  pray  for  me  next  Sunday.  Cut  it  out, 
Tom.  I'm  damned  if  I  know  what  to  do,  now.  I 


i3o  KHAKI 

didn't  figure  you'd  be  around  here,  to  break  up  our 
party.  I  thought  we'd  be  able  to  break  open  this  shoe 
box  of  Hobgood's  and  beat  it." 

Sherry  looked  at  Hop  Murray  quickly  as  if  a  sug 
gestion  might  come  from  him. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  anything  about  your  family 
affairs,  Gillie,"  said  the  other  man,  "  but  either  we'd 
better  go  to  work  or  beat  it.  I  don't  want  to  hang 
around  long  enough  to  get  pinched.  That  bull  from 
the  department  may  be  coming  along."  Then  he  had 
a  pleasant  idea.  "  Why  not  bust  the  box,  and  sugar 
little  brother  with  a  piece  of  change?  "  he  said,  amiably. 

Sherry  laughed.  "  You  don't  know  him.  He  don't 
know  you,  does  he,  Tom  ?  "  he  said.  "  Tom's  a  good 
little  boy.  He  wouldn't  swipe  a  rotten  apple.  Did 
you  hear  what  he  said,  Tom  ?  Want  to  come  in  on  the 
split?" 

There  was  no  reply.  The  big  fellow  was  still  star 
ing,  mired  in  this  dismal  swamp  of  mixed  emotions. 
Finally  he  gasped : 

"  You  wouldn't  —  you  couldn't  do  this,  Sherry !  I 
won't  believe  it.  Not  you !  You  wouldn't  come  to 
your  own  home  —  it's  a  mistake  —  you  didn't  mean  it, 
Sherry.  Aw,  Sherry,  this  is  a  joke  !  You  just  wanted 
to  see  what  I'd  do  —  how  I'd  act!  You - 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Tom !  "  was  the  quick  answer. 
"  You've  got  eyes.  You  can  see  what  the  game  is,  I 
may  have  hit  the  toboggan  —  I  may  be  down  and  out 
—  but  I  don't  stall  —  I'm  no  hypocrite.  I  know  what 
the  town  thinks  about  me,  and  they  can  go  to  hell. 
Let  'em  have  something  to  talk  about !  " 

The  dark-haired  Gilstar  turned  to  his  companion. 
"  Hop !  "  he  said,  "  this  is  off.  We  can't  put  it  over, 
without  sending  Tom  to  jail  as  an  accomplice.  I  can't 
do  that.  We'll  beat  it,  and  the  boy  can  say  he  scared 
us  away.  That'll  sound  all  right.  Maybe  you'll  pass 


KHAKI  131 

as  a  hero,  Tom,  if  we  take  a  sneak,  and  leave  you  with 
the  safe,  eh?  I  got  nothing  against  you,  Tom  —  only 
don't  preach." 

''Sherry!"  cried  the  big  fellow,  with  a  bursting 
heart,  "  don't  say  that  —  not  that  way.  '  You've  got 
nothing  against  me.'  Sherry!  Is  that  all  you  —  you 
think  of  us  —  of  mother  and  Dolly  and  me  —  you 
haven't  anything  against  us !  Don't  you  care  for  us  at 
all,  Sherry  ?  Don't  you  know  we  all  love  you  —  I 
don't  care  what  you've  done  —  what  you're  doing  - 
we've  all  waited  for  you  to  come  home  —  Sherry, 
there's  something  the  matter  —  you  wouldn't  talk  that 
way  — " 

"Cut  it  out  —  cut  it  out,  I  say,"  said  Sherry.  It 
was  as  though  he  purposely  hardened  his  voice  and 
attitude  for  the  occasion.  "  You  can't  salve  me,  Tom. 
I  got  nothing  against  you,  I  tell  you.  But  —  I  tried 
to  come  back  to  this  town  to  make  good,  Tom,  and  you 
didn't  want  anything  of  me  —  you  good  guys  —  the 
deacon  and  the  rest  of  the  psalm-singers." 

"  You  tried  to  come  back  -  "  began  Tom.  "  When, 
Sherry?  I  didn't  know  - 

"  Oh  yes  you  did !  "  was  the  cutting  reply.  "  Don't 
try  to  flam  me  with  that  stuff,  Tom.  You  know  all 
about  it.  Don't  I  know  how  things  stand?  After 
they  ran  me  out  of  town,  you  were  the  white-haired 
boy  —  you  were  the  good  baby,  nothing  was  too  good 
for  Tommy  —  and  to  hell  with  Sherry  !  Everything 
came  your  way  —  they  always  had  a  pat  on  the  head 
for  you,  and  a  kick  in  the  slats  for  me.  I  don't  mean 
that  mother  —  mother  played  any  favorites ;  no,  bless 
her  soul,  she  didn't  —  but  she  couldn't  stand  against 
that  bunch  and  they've  probably  made  her  think  I  be 
long  in  the  gutter,  too.  And  the  only  other  one  that 
thought  anything  of  me  —  Oh,  I  hand  it  to  you  — 
you  were  the  wise  guy,  Tom  —  I  suppose  anybody 


1 32  KHAKI 

would  have  done  the  same  —  you  walked  away  with 
her." 

"  With  her?  I  don't  understand,"  said  Tom,  not 
knowing,  of  course,  what  the  deacon  had  venomously 
hinted  about  Tom  and  Alice  to  Sherry;  not  knowing 
even  that  the  deacon  and  Sherry  had  ever  met  since 
the  last  time  the  Gilstar  family  had  heard  of  the  miss 
ing  one. 

"  Cut  it  out!  "  was  the  cold  rejoinder.  "  You're  not 
so  simple  as  you  look,  Tom  —  and  you  can't  put  it  over 
on  me.  I  don't  care  now  —  I  don't  care.  It  was 
framed  against  me,  and  I  fell  for  it  easy,  by  being  a  bad 
actor.  But  let  me  slip  this  to  you,  Tom,  before  I  get 
out :  you  never  can  make  her  believe  —  you  never 
can — " 

For  some  reason  Sherry  stopped  short.  He  gulped 
something  down,  that  came  up  in  his  throat,  and  turned 
to  Hop  Murray.  "  You  see  how  it  is,  Hop,"  he  said. 
"  We  can't  put  this  over.  We  better  beat  it." 

Then,  suddenly,  Sherry  wheeled  and  looked  at  Tom. 
He  was  unwilling  to  leave  it  without  a  last  bitter  word. 
Month  after  month,  since  he  had  been  summarily  or 
dered  out  of  town  by  Deacon  Bradshaw,  in  the  pres 
ence  of  the  girl  he  loved,  he  had  gone  over  the  story 
in  his  mind,  the  sharp  edges  of  it  cutting  him  deeper 
and  deeper  all  the  time,  his  discomfiture  being  magni 
fied;  his  boyish  troubles  being  enlarged  into  persecu 
tions.  He  had  begun  by  feeling  that  he  had  done 
wrong  —  and  that  feeling  had  finally  sent  him  back 
to  Tredick  to  try  it  over  again.  But,  being  rebuffed, 
he  now  felt  that  all  the  wrong  had  been  piled  up  against 
him. 

And,  in  the  person  of  his  own  brother,  who  stood 
before  him,  he  saw  a  whole  moving  conspiracy.  Had 
Tom  not  profited  by  Sherry's  faults  ?  Wasn't  the  rea- 


KHAKI  133 

son  why  they  thought  so  much  of  Tom,  that  he  was 
made  to  look  better  and  better  by  the  lies  circulated 
about  Sherry  ?  This  was  what  he  thought,  as  he  stood 
there,  and  he  felt  an  uncontrollable  hate  for  his  big 
brother,  which  made  him  seize  the  lamp  shade  and  turn 
the  light  full  on  the  big  fellow,  to  emphasize  one  last 
spiteful  word. 

He  did  flash  the  light  upon  Tom,  but  what  he  saw 
sent  him  back  a  pace  or  two  and  brought  an  exclama 
tion  of  amazement  from  him.  For  Tom  Gilstar  had 
thrown  back  his  raincoat,  and  he  stood  there,  dejected, 
drooping,  but  clear  cut  in  his  khaki  uniform.  The  hat, 
with  its  light-blue  cord  around  it,  Sherry  saw  for  the 
first  time.  He  had  seen  the  hat,  but  thought  it  an 
ordinary  felt.  He  had  seen  the  puttees,  but  in  the  half- 
light  they  had  looked  like  high  hunting  boots.  Now, 
when  he  saw  the  unmistakable  evidence,  which  his  prac 
ticed  army  eye  could  easily  verify,  that  Tom  Gilstar 
was  already  in  the  army,  he  fell  back  and  gasped : 

"  For  God's  sake, —  he's  enlisted  !  " 

"  What  d'ye  mean,  enlisted?  "  came  from  Hop  Mur 
ray. 

"  Yes,  Sherry,  I've  enlisted,"  said  Tom,  faintly. 

For  a  moment,  the  two  brothers  looked  at  each  other. 
Then  a  sneering  grin  appeared  on  Sherry's  face. 
"  You  !  "  he  said  —  and  now  all  the  bitterness  that  had 
been  accumulating  in  his  mind  leaped  to  his  lips  — 
"  You,  Tom !  Ha,  ha !  That's  a  corker !  You  !  In 
the  army !  ha,  ha !  You'll  make  a  great  soldier,  you 
will.  I  s'pose  they  think  you're  a  hero,  already,  here 
in  this  burg.  My  God,  Hop,  look  at  the  soldier ! 
There  isn't  a  kid  half  his  size  but  what  could  lick  him. 
Tom,  I  don't  want  to  hurt  your  feelings  —  but  for 
God's  sake,  take  those  clothes  off!  I  never  was  any 
hero,  God  knows,  but  when  I  was  in  the  army,  I  didn't 


134  KHAKI 

get  the  Gilstar  name  in  bad  by  being  a  coward,  that's  a 
cinch.  Take  'em  off,  Tom,  and  stay  at  home  with  the 
deacon !  " 

There  was  a  barb  in  this  spiteful  talk  that  somehow 
tore  under  the  flesh  of  the  big  fellow  in  khaki,  and 
seemed  to  be  groping  for  his  very  vitals.  He  saw  the 
grin  on  his  brother's  face;  the  blood  came  pouring 
into  his  own  face.  He  instinctively  looked  down  at 
his  own  uniform.  Suddenly  for  the  first  time,  he  was 
conscious  of  feeling  something  about  that  uniform  — 
he  hadn't  felt  it  before.  It  was  khaki  —  he  had  seen 
that  —  it  looked  pretty  well  on  him  —  he  had  known 
that  —  but  that  had  been  all  —  except  that  he  was  re 
signed  to  service  in  the  work  that  uniform  called  for. 

But  now  there  swept  in  upon  Tom  Gilstar  some 
thing  else.  It  was  no  mere  khaki  any  more.  It  was 
a  part  of  him  —  it  was  the  bigger  part  of  him  —  it 
was  an  over-soul,  touching  his.  It  was  the  badge  of 
something  he  had  not  realized,  but  realized  now  - 
service  and  honor  —  the  highest  points  the  human  soul 
can  aspire  to.  It  was  not  his  pride  that  was  being 
hurt  with  taunts,  any  more;  it  was  not  his  body  that 
felt  any  more  torn  with  the  barbs  of  irony;  it  was  an 
insult  to  his  very  existence,  for  the  khaki  had  come 
to  mean  the  reason  for  his  existence.  Service  —  and 
honor!  And  it  was  being  spurned,  sullied,  jeered. 

"  He's  a  little  tin  soldier,  sure  enough,"  commented 
Hop  Murray,  gayly,  taking  his  cue  from  Sherry. 

For  reply,  a  red  light  came  into  the  eyes  of  the  big 
Gilstar.  Seemingly  without  effort,  he  reached  forth 
his  hand,  grasped  Hop  Murray  by  the  neck  and  arm, 
shook  him  as  a  big  Newfoundland  would  shake  a  cur 
puppy,  then  lifted  him  bodily  and  hurled  him  over  the 
sorting  table.  Murray's  body  went  like  a  limp  rag. 
It  struck  the  floor  with  a  dull  thud ;  there  was  a  hollow 
crack,  when  Murray's  head  hit  the  planks  —  and  he 


KHAKI  135 

lay  there  like  a  sack  of  meal,  huddled  up,  with  his 
knees  drawn  in. 

It  was  a  matter  of  a  second  or  less.  Sudden,  im 
pulsive  as  the  blow  was  which  crumpled  Hop  Murray 
into  a  sack  of  a  man,  grotesquely  huddled  in  the  cor 
ner,  it  was  a  long  space  of  time  compared  with  that 
instant  decision  which  had  taken  place  in  Tom  Gilstar's 
brain.  Of  course,  the  truth  was  that  his  decision  was 
made  not  then,  on  the  spur  of  the  moment;  he  had 
been  led  up  to  it  by  slow  degrees.  But  it  was  the 
snapping  of  some  tangled  cord  of  comprehension  in 
him,  that  told  him  now  that  he  was  no  coward,  but  a 
man,  capable  of  doing  a  man's  job,  wherever  that  job 
should  lead. 

It  was  not  that  Hop  Murray  had  insulted  him,  by 
calling  him  a  tin  soldier.  It  was  that  Murray  had 
insulted  something  bigger  and  finer  than  him,  which  all 
that  was  best  in  him  told  him  to  defend.  And  so, 
not  in  a  blind  rage,  but  merely  as  a  corollary  to  his 
conclusions,  he  throttled  Murray  and  hurled  him  away. 

And  in  that  flash,  that  less  than  moment,  something 
also  told  Tom  Gilstar  that  he  would  fight  Prussian 
murderers  that  way.  That  in  such  a  way  all  clients  of 
Force  must  be  fought.  That  no  advantage  should  be 
given ;  no  opportunity  lost  to  win  —  to  kill  if  necessary 
—  at  least  to  defeat.  All  the  sniveling  spirit  which 
had  once  told  him  to  sacrifice  himself  rather  than  kill 
another  man,  left  him. 

He  saw  now  that  not  to  kill  Prussians,  is  to  be  a 
Prussian. 

The  two  brothers  were  looking  into  each  other's  eyes 
for  just  a  second.  Then,  still  obeying  his  new  tactical 
impulses,  Tom  Gilstar  swept  the  smaller  man  aside, 
grasped  the  two  revolvers  from  the  safe,  and  dropped, 
them  into  an  open  mail-sack,  which  hung  from  the 
wall  on  hooks.  It  may  have  been  an  unnecessary  pre- 


136  KHAKI 

caution.  No  doubt  Sherry  wouldn't  resort  to  that! 
But  it  was  all  part  of  that  good  management  which 
came  to  Tom  Gilstar  with  the  knowledge  that  he  was  a 
man. 

Then  Sherry  Gilstar  said,  between  clenched  teeth, 
"  What  are  you  trying  to  do,  Tom  ?  Are  you  crazy. 
You  know  I  don't  want  to  hurt  you,  Tom." 

The  big  fellow  actually  laughed.  "  Hurt  me, 
Sherry?  You  can't  hurt  me.  You  can't  frighten  me 
any  more.  I'm  in  the  army,  Sherry,  and  I'm  going  to 
kill  —  kill!  understand  —  kill!  You  don't  know  me 
any  more,  Sherry — I'm  different  from  what  you 
thought.  Hurt  me?  Why,  Sherry,  it's  me  —  Tom 
-that  wouldn't  hurt  you  —  do  you  know  that?  See 
that  fellow  —  that  friend  of  yours  —  over  there? 
Maybe  he's  dead.  But  I  don't  care  —  I  don't  care  any 
more —  I  see  things  different  now." 

The  pale,  dark  face  of  the  older  brother  watched 
Tom  Gilstar  as  he  spoke.  It  was  unbelievable! 
Sherry  didn't  believe  it  —  he  refused  to  believe.  This 
big  brother  of  his  was  a  coward.  I  le  had  always  been 
a  coward.  Wasn't  he  afraid  of  getting  his  head  under 
water  when  he  was  a  boy  —  and  didn't  learn  to  swim  ? 
Hadn't  he  proved  it  on  a  hundred  occasions?  It 
couldn't  be  that  he  had  changed !  That  blow  which 
knocked  out  Hop  —  that  must  have  been  accident. 

Something  of  the  confidence  was  lacking,  but  there 
was  still  a  note  of  irony  in  Sherry's  tone,  when  he  said, 
"  Well,  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it,  constable? 
I  suppose  you  think  you  could  arrest  us,  or  something 
like  that?  " 

"  Yes,  Sherry,"  replied  Tom,  gravely,  "  that's  my 
duty,  and  I'm  going  to  do  it." 

"  Don't  make  me  laugh,  Tom,"  was  the  reply. 
"  You  can't  do  it  —  you  know  you  can't.  You're  just 
trying  to  make  me  think  you've  got  the  punch  because 


KHAKI  137 

you  landed  a  lucky  one  on  Hop.  You  haven't  got  any 
sand  —  you  know  you  haven't"  Sherry  was  shaking 
his  finger  tinder  the  big  fellow's  nose,  now,  as  though 
to  bring  him  back  to  a  sense  of  his  own  cowardice. 
'  You  never  had  any  nerve  —  you  know  that.  You 
can't  arrest  anybody.  I'm  going,  now,  see!  " 

It  was  probably  a  bluff,  to  see  whether  the  incanta 
tion  had  succeeded.  Sherry  had  no  real  intention  of 
quitting  the  place  without  Murray.  But  he  started  to 
open  the  door  behind  him.  A  second  afterward,  he 
was  pinioned  by  the  shoulders  from  behind. 

"Oh,  is  that  it?"  growled  Sherry.  He  made  a 
lunge  to  break  away.  He  twisted  and  squirmed ;  tried 
to  get  his  arms  away  from  that  silent,  heavy-handed 
grip;  tried  to  get  a  foothold  that  would  let  him  throw 
his  captor.  He  was  wiry  and  well-trained,  he  had  the 
advantage  of  army  exercises.  But  he  was  in  the  hands 
of  a  giant.  There  are  some  people  in  the  world  who 
never  have  to  take  any  exercises.  They  seem  to  be 
born  with  special  strength  in  their  muscles  and  ten 
dons  —  and  Tom  Gilstar  was  one  of  them. 

"  I  don't  want  to  hurt  you,  Sherry,"  he  said,  "  but  — 
it's  my  duty,"  and  slowly,  surely,  he  let  the  smaller  man 
struggle  himself  breathless  and  helpless  in  his  arms. 

It  was  not  a  fight;  it  was  not  a  wrestling  match;  it 
was  a  strange  struggle  of  one  man  in  the  steel  arms 
of  another  —  and  queerly  enough  in  the  arms  of  a  man 
who  was  watching  all  the  time  lest  he  hurt  his  captive, 
and  whose  eyes,  meantime,  were  moist  with  emotion, 
and  who  was  quivering  —  but  not  in  fear.  And  when 
the  big  pincer-arms  finally  held  a  captive  who  no 
longer  even  fluttered,  they  lifted  that  captive  up,  as 
gently  as  a  baby  is  lifted,  and  sat  him  on  the  edge  of 
the  sorting-table. 

"  Now  don't  start  that  again,"  puffed  Tom  Gilstar, 
"  because  it's  foolish  —  you  can  see  that,  Sherry." 


138  KHAKI 

At  the  same  moment,  the  huddled-up  figure  in  the 
corner  got  up  on  one  elbow  and  gazed  at  the  two  men 
by  the  table.  There  was  a  dark  streak  of  blood  run 
ning  down  from  the  forehead  into  the  right  eye  of 
Hop  Murray.  His  unclosed  eye  looked  dazedly  upon 
Tom  Gilstar  for  a  moment.  Then  he  said,  addressing 
Sherry  Gilstar,  in  an  accusing  and  disillusioned  voice : 

"  Is  this  the  guy  you  said  was  a  soft  boob,  Gillie!  " 

Then  Murray  added,  "  Where  am  I,  anyway? 
What's  happened,  Gillie?" 

''  You  can  get  up  now,"  said  Tom  to  the  prostrate 
man. 

Murray  looked  at  the  big  fellow  wonderingly  and 
dragged  himself  painfully  to  his  feet,  where  he  leaned 
against  the  wall  and  rubbed  his  sleeve  over  the  blood- 
clogged  eye.  He  couldn't  understand.  Too  many 
things  had  happened  since  he  went  to  sleep. 

"  I  s'pose  you  think  you've  got  us !  "  growled  Sherry, 
at  last. 

"  I've  got  to  do  my  duty,"  was  the  grave  reply. 
"  I'm  terribly  sorry,  Sherry.  But  I've  got  to  do  my 
duty." 

Then  a  cunning  look  came  into  the  smaller  man's 
eyes.  All  the  self-confidence  had  gone.  He  looked 
like  an  animal,  trapped  and  trying  to  invent  a  means  of 
escape.  He  stared  at  his  brother,  breathing  hard. 
Then  he  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "  You  can't  pinch  us, 
Tom !  You  can't  do  it !  You  know  that  as  well  as  I 
do.  You  wouldn't  send  your  own  brother  up  —  you 
know  you  wouldn't.  Would  you  ?  " 

There  was  no  reply.  Tom  Gilstar  was  thinking 
hard. 

"  Besides,"  went  on  Sherry,  with  sudden  eagerness, 
"  you  know  —  what  mother  would  —  you  know  you 
couldn't  do  it  to  her.  You've  got  to  let  us  beat  it! 
She  couldn't  stand  it,  Tom  —  you  know  that.  She 


KHAKI  139 

doesn't  know  —  about  me,  does  she  ?  No !  You 
wouldn't  do  anything  to  —  hurt  her,  would  you  ?  It 
might  kill  her.  You  know  that !  " 

There  came  into  Tom's  eyes,  then,  for  the  first  time 
in  all  his  dealings  with  his  brother  Sherry,  a  look  of 
contempt.  Of  contempt!  It  was  new.  He  had  al 
ways  been  proud  of  Sherry.  He  had  always  thought 
of  him  as  a  hero.  He  had  always  defended  him 
against  the  slurs  of  the  townsfolk.  But  now  he  felt  a 
contempt  for  Sherry.  He  had  expected  something 
bigger  of  him  than  this  —  just  what,  he  didn't  know  - 
that  he  might  fight,  that  he  might  be  capable  of  self- 
sacrifice  —  but  not  this  —  not  whining  and  hiding  be 
hind  the  skirts  of  their  beloved  mother. 

He  saw  only  too  clearly,  did  Tom  Gilstar  —  what  it 
meant.  Sherry  was  playing  his  last  card.  It  might 
kill  their  mother!  There  was  no  doubt  of  that!  He 
knew  what  Sherry  —  her  first  boy-child  —  meant  to  the 
mother.  She  thought  of  him  as  a  hero.  He  had  dis 
appeared  from  her  sight,  but  he  lived  in  her  heart. 
And  to  find  that  he  was  a  felon  —  it  wouldn't  do.  It 
would  break  her  heart. 

"  You  can't  do  it.  You  couldn't  do  it  to  her,"  went 
on  Sherry,  seeing  his  chance  in  the  wavering  of  the 
other  man.  "  You  can  let  us  get  out  of  here,  Tom ; 
nobody'll  really  care.  You  scared  us  away  —  see? 
That's  it.  What  do  you  care  what  they  say,  anyway? 
It  won't  hurt  you.  You've  got  to  do  it,  see?  " 

Tom  Gilstar  threw  back  his  shoulders.  The  intake 
of  his  breath  sounded  in  the  barish  room.  He  saw  the 
whole  play,  to  the  end.  They  would  jeer  at  him. 
"  He  failed  to  do  his  duty !  "  No  matter  what  he  said, 
they  wouldn't  believe  him.  Everybody  thought  him  a 
coward  —  that  would  be  the  word.  He  let  his  men 
get  away.  They'd  all  tell  Gillis.  At  the  army  camp, 
they'd  say,  "  Here  comes  the  coward !  "  Cracknell 


140  KHAKI 

would  say  he  had  that  yellow  streak  down  his  back. 
"  Did  you  have  a  fight?  "  "  No."  "  Did  you  fire  a 
shot?"  "No."  "Just  let  them  get  away?"  "Yes." 

"Coward!" 

"  He  won't  make  a  soldier.  He  was  a  coward  as  a 
policeman."  Other  taunts. 

"  You  can't  do  it/'  Sherry  was  pleading.  "  You 
could  do  it,  Tom.  You've  got  to  let  us  go." 

The  newspapers :  "  The  postoffice  of  Tredick  was 
broken  into  last  night  by  robbers,  who  made  their  es 
cape,  though  the  constable,  Tom  Gilstar,  was  on  duty 
and  in  the  vicinity  at  the  time.  Gilstar  recently  en 
listed  in  the  army." 

And  there,  at  home,  asleep,  was  she  who  loved  them 
both  —  who  believed  heart  and  soul  in  this  first  boy- 
child,  Sheridan  Gilstar,  and  Dorothy,  who  was  so  sen 
sitive  and  proud  - 

Tom  Gilstar  looked  at  his  brother,  heavy-eyed.  He 
had  known  all  along  what  he  was  going  to  do.  He 
was  going  back  to  his  old  position  in  the  town  —  the 
town  coward.  It  seemed  to  be  his  place,  after  all  —  he 
would  never  rise  out  of  it.  He  put  out  his  hand  and 
touched  Sherry  Gilstar  on  the  arm  —  and  in  the  quiet, 
tender  way  he  had  always  had,  in  dealing  with  his 
family,  he  said,  chokingly : 

"  Good-by,  Sherry !  You  know  I  couldn't  do  any 
thing  else.  I  hope  this  is  something  you  got  into  by 
mistake;  it  isn't  you,  Sherry;  you  weren't  this;  you 
weren't  mean  and  low  like  this :  and  nobody  at  home 
will  know.  I  —  I  can  stand  it  —  they've  always 
called  me  a  coward,  and  I've  always  stood  it.  Good- 
by,  Sherry.  I'm  only  sorry  —  you're  not  in  the  army. 
It  did  —  it  flashed  in  my  mind  once  or  twice  that  we'd 
wear  the  uniform  together  —  and  we  might  meet  over 
there." 

"  You  don't  have  to  tell  'em  the  truth !  "  said  Sherry. 


KHAKI  141 

quickly.      '  You  can  fake  a  good  story  that  will  put 
you  right  - 

"  I  wouldn't  even  want  to  take  the  trouble  to  lie 
about  it.  No;  I'll  tell  them  —  but  not  who  it  was. 
Good-by.  You'd  better  go  now." 

He  put  out  a  hand  blindly.  The  brother  looked  at 
it,  drew  back  a  little,  put  out  his  own  half-way,  then 
pulled  it  back  with  a  jerk  and  said,  hoarsely : 

"  Come  on,  Hop !     Quick." 

Tom  Gilstar  didn't  watch  them  go.  He  sat  down  on 
a  chair  and  covered  his  face  with  his  hands.  He  heard 
steps  on  the  sidewalk  outside.  Then  the  place  was 
still  — very  still. 

"  My  God  —  our  Sherry !  Our  own  Sherry !  "  he 
moaned. 

And  after  a  while  Tom  Gilstar  rose  and  went  over 
to  the  safe.  He  took  the  sacks  and  put  them  back 
where  they  came  from.  He  laid  the  rug  down  again 
in  front  of  Henry  Hobgood's  desk,  and  smoothed  it 
out.  Then  his  eye  fell  upon  a  leather,  saggy  bag.  He 
picked  it  up.  It  was  very  heavy.  That  bag  he  car 
ried  with  him  when  he  left  the  office.  He  walked  with 
it  to  the  bridge,  over  the  Black  River,  and  dropped  it 
into  the  dark,  chattering  waters  beneath. 

Then  he  went  to  the  telephone  central  and  woke  the 
night  operator.  He  got  the  Springhaven  police  sta 
tion,  after  a  seemingly  interminable  delay. 

"  This  is  Gilstar,  constable  at  Tredick.  Is  Mr. 
Cracknell  there?  I'd  like  to  leave  a  message  for  him, 
then.  Those  —  people  came  to-night.  Broke  into  the 
postoffice.  They  got  away.  Yes,  that's  it,  they  got 
away.  Yes,  this  is  Gilstar  himself.  No;  I  don't  know 
where  they  went.  No;  I  don't  even  know  the  direc 
tion.  YES;  I  KNOW  IT;  PROBABLY  I  AM.  I'M  SORRY. 
Good-by." 


XII 

NOT  a  word  was  spoken  by  either  Sherry  Gilstar  or 
Hop  Murray,  as  they  edged  along  the  alleyway  leading 
from  the  rear  of  the  postoffice.  The  tall  fellow  fol 
lowed  Sherry  by  half  a  step,  with  that  tacit  knowledge 
of  leadership  he  always  displayed.  They  stopped  for 
a  second  where  the  alley  came  out  on  the  Main  street. 
The  coast  was  clear, —  not  a  soul  was  stirring. 

At  the  first  intersecting  street  Sherry  turned,  and 
began  to  walk  rapidly.  Then  Hop  broke  the  silence 
by  asking,  "  Are  we  going  back  with  the  crowd, 
Gillie?" 

"  I  don't  know,  Hop,5'  was  the  short  reply.  "  We'll 
talk  it  over  when  we  get  clear  of  the  village." 

At  the  next  intersecting  street  there  was  an  electric 
light,  and  directly  beside  it  a  great  elm.  The  men, 
striding  along,  were  brought  to  a  jerky  halt  at  this 
tree,  when  an  unexpected  figure  emerged  from  the 
shadow  behind  it,  just  as  they  had  passed,  and  a  trem 
bling  voice  said : 

"  Sherry !     That's  you,  Sherry  ?  " 

Gilstar  turned  with  a  nervous  bound,  and  was  look 
ing  into  the  face  of  Alice  Bradshaw,  a  face  made 
queerly  pale  in  the  lamplight.  She  wore  a  long  storm 
coat  which  came  to  the  tops  of  her  shoes,  but  she  had 
no  hat  on.  Her  hair  caught  the  light  rays;  something 
in  the  texture  of  the  hair,  or  the  way  the  light  fell 
upon  it,  or  some  real  moisture  in  the  air,  made  a  thou 
sand  little  sparkling  points,  like  the  sunlight  on  the 
dewy  grass. 

142 


KHAKI  143 

"  I  knew  you  were  here !  "  she  went  on.  "  I  knew 
you  had  come  back." 

"  What  are  you  doing,  out  here,  at  this  time  of 
night  ?  "  said  Sherry,  hoarsely.  "  What  —  how  did 
you  know  — ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  saw  you  this  afternoon.  I  knew  it  was 
you.  I  told  Tom  so;  that  is,  I  asked  him  if  he  had 
seen  you.  I  haven't  been  to  sleep,  Sherry.  I  didn't 
expect  to  see  you,  but  something  was  choking  me,  in 
doors,  and  I  wanted  to  get  into  the  air.  Then  I  saw 
you  two  coming  along.  Your  walk  —  I  was  sure  it 
was  you  before  you  came  into  the  light.  And  it  was, 
wasn't  it?" 

In  the  pale  light  the  man  and  woman  looked  into 
each  other's  faces.  It  was  a  long  moment  before 
Sherry  Gilstar  trusted  himself  to  speak.  In  the  back 
ground  hovered  Hop  Murray,  nervous,  panicky,  but 
silent.  Suggestively,  he  coughed  once  or  twice  as  a 
signal  that  they  had  better  be  on  the  move. 

But  Gilstar  stayed.  In  his  face  was  revealed,  be 
sides  the  surprise  at  seeing  Alice  Bradshaw  here,  at  this 
hour,  all  the  overpowering  shame  which  was  rising 
within  him.  His  air  of  self-confidence  was  completely 
gone.  In  the  encounter  with  Tom  Gilstar  it  was  not 
that  his  physical  prowess  had  been  worsted;  it  was  that 
Tom  had  shown  himself  in  every  single  way  the  bigger 
man.  The  coward  was  no  longer  the  coward  —  and 
Sherry  was  no  longer  the  man  he  had  thought. 

"  You  —  mustn't  stay  here  a  minute,"  Gilstar  stran 
gled  out,  finally.  "  There's  a  light  burning  in  your 
house,  Alice  — 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  left  it  on,"  she  replied.  "  But  father's 
sound  asleep." 

In  the  girl's  face  was  the  glad  light  of  adventure,  of 
freedom  from  the  conventions  of  Tredick,  of  meeting 
Sherry  Gilstar  so  unexpectedly.  She  only  thought  that 


144  KHAKI 

he  had  changed  his  mind,  and  was  coming  back  to 
Tredick  in  spite  of  everything.  She  did  not  frame  her 
emotions  in  words,  but  —  she  was  looking  into  his 
face,  and  it  meant  much  to  her.  Her  lips  were  parted 
in  an  unexpected  smile.  She  pulled  the  long  coat 
tighter  around  her  lithe  figure,  and  snuggled  into  it 
with  a  little  shiver  of  delight. 

"  It's  awful,  isn't  it?  "  she  burst  out,  with  a  ripple 
of  daring  fun.  "  This  is  the  only  time,  Sherry,  that 
I've  ever  been  on  the  street,  talking  with  you,  without 
feeling  that  all  Tredick  was  looking  at  us." 

Sherry  did  not  respond  to  the  notion.  He  said, 
huskily,  "  Alice,  you  don't  want  to  have  anything  to 
do  with  me.  I'm  in  bad,  now  —  you  may  know  soon 
enough  —  and  thank  God  I'm  not  dragging  you  or  any 
other  decent  person  along  with  me.  I'm  in  wrong, 
Alice  —  understand  ?  —  and  you  don't  want  to  remem 
ber  you  saw  me  here  —  you  don't  want  to  think  any 
thing  more  about  me.  I  know  all  about  it.  Tom  is 
the  man  —  he's  a  man  —  not  a  poor  cheap  crook  - 
and  you  want  to  stick  to  him  —  I  see  that  now  —  you'll 
be  happy  with  Tom  — " 

The  girl  drew  back  and  peered  into  the  face  before 
her,  trying  to  read  this  nonsense,  as  she  saw  it. 
"  Why,  what  are  you  talking  about  ?  "  she  said  quickly. 
"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean.  Tom  ?  Your  brother 
Tom?  What  have  I  got  to  do  with  Tom  Gilstar? 
What  are  you  talking  about,  Sherry  Gilstar?  Tell  me, 
this  minute!  " 

"  Your  father  —  when  I  was  here  before  —  he  told 
me  it  was  as  good  as  settled,  between  you  and  Tom  — " 
The  young  fellow  stopped,  dully. 

"My  father --Tom  —  why,  it's  crazy,  crazy, 
Sherry!  You  didn't  understand  what  he  said.  He 
couldn't  have  said  that.  Everybody  knows  your 
brother  Tom  is  in  love  with  'Tony  Pillicy  —  every  girl 


KHAKI  145 

in  town  is  bursting  with  jealousy,  Sherry,  because 
Tom's  enlisted  and  Tony  is  so  happy  about  it  —  and  — 
why,  Sherry  Gilstar,  you've  got  everything  muddled, 
I  tell  you !  Your  brother  Torn  is  the  kind  that  shows 
everything  he  feels,  in  his  face  —  you  must  have  heard 
from  somebody  that  he's  been  trying  to  get  'Tony  to 
marry  him  for  ever  so  long.  - 1  —  I  don't  know 
what  to  make  of  it  —  that  you  should  think  — 

The  young  fellow  put  his  hand  out  and  touched  her 
arm.  "Alice!  you  mean  that!"  he  choked  out. 
"  You  —  my  God !  I'm  in  wrong,  I  tell  you  —  I've 
ruined  everything  I've  laid  hands  on  —  I'm  so  much 
of  a  fool  that  I  couldn't  even  go  straight  and  succeed. 
What  a  fool!  If  I'd  known  that  —  it  wouldn't  —  but 
it's  no  use  now.  I  can't  come  back !  I'm  in  too  far. 
I'm  sorry  I  ever  saw  you,  Alice  —  I'm  sorry,  I  mean 
you  ever  came  to  think  I  was  a  decent  fellow.  You 
don't  want  to  talk  with  me  another  minute.  I'll  tell 
you  right  —  I'm  wanted  by  the  police.  Is  that  good 
enough  ?  That's  the  kind  I  am,  Alice.  I'd  rather  have 
you  hear  it  from  me  — 

All  the  adventurous  joy  that  was  in  her  eyes  gave 
way  to  pain  and  pity.  She  seized  his  hand.  "  No,  no ! 
You  don't  mean  that,  Sherry !  "  she  said  in  a  breaking 
voice.  "  I  don't  believe  it !  " 

"  It's  true,"  was  the  answer.  "  Now,  do  you  see  — " 
He  tried  to  disengage  her  hand.  She  was  clinging  too 
tightly.  It  made  him  wince  —  that  pressure. 

"  Wait !  "  she  said,  in  one  great  sob.  "  You  can't 
go  this  way,  Sherry.  You  can't  leave  it  that  way.  I 
know  you  —  I  know  you  better  than  you  know  your- 
self,  Sherry,  indeed  I  do.  You  won't  run  away,  now 
that  the  country  —  our  country  is  calling  for  you. 
You  were  in  the  army;  I  tell  you,  Sherry,  I  thought 
when  I  saw  you  here  this  afternoon  that  you  had  heard 
Tom  was  going  to  France  and  it  had  brought  you  back 


146  KHAKI 

to  enlist.  I  was  so  happy.  I  wanted  to  be  the  first 
one  to  see  you  and  talk  with  you.  I  wanted  them  to 
know  —  all  of  them  —  my  father  —  everybody  — 
what  you  really  were.  I  wanted  to  see  you  in  the 
khaki,  like  Tom  —  only  it  would  be  you  —  and  have 
that  to  remember  in  the  days  to  come.  Sherry !  You 
can  do  it!  I  don't  care  what's  happened!  You  can 
make  it  right  —  please  listen  to  me,  Sherry  — " 

"  No.  It's  too  late.  I  ought  to  have  thought  of 
that  before.  I  can't  stand  this.  I'll  crack  —  I'll  go 
to  pieces,"  moaned  the  man.  Then  he  took  the  hand 
that  detained  him,  and  with  gentle  force,  put  it  away 
from  him.  "  Quick,  Hop !  "  he  muttered.  He  wanted 
to  do  something  —  there  was  the  crying  need  in  his 
wrenched  soul,  to  lay  it  on  the  ground  and  have  it 
trampled.  As  quick  as  lightning  he  had  seized  the 
girl's  coat,  pulled  it  up  to  his  lips  - 

And  he  was  gone.  She  heard  their  feet  hurrying 
along  the  tar-walk. 

"  My  God,  Hop !  My  God !  "  moaned  Gilstar,  as 
they  fled  along. 

"  Go  easy,  kid,"  was  the  reply,  with  real  feeling. 
"  Don't  let  it  get  to  you  so  hard.  I  know  how  you 
feel  —  but  brace  up.  We've  got  to  make  our  get 
away  ! " 

A  sobbing  breath  was  the  only  reply.  But  a  second 
afterward,  Sherry  Gilstar  stopped.  "  Go  on,  Hop,"  he 
said.  "  I'm  done.  Give  us  your  hand,  pal.  I'll  tell 
you  how  to  get  back  to  the  big  barn,  where  you'll 
catch  the  crowd.  I  don't  want  to  be  a  quitter,  but  I'm 
done.  And  I  don't  want  to  queer  your  chances." 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  What  are  you  going  to  do  ? 
You  can't  stay  here!"  cried  Murray.  "Brace  up, 
Gillie!" 

"  I'm  done,  I  tell  you !  "  gasped  Gilstar.  "  My 
nerve  is  gone.  I  don't  care  whether  they  get  me  or 


KHAKI  147 

not.  I'd  just  as  soon  they  would.  You've  been  a 
good  pal,  Hop,  and  —  you  better  beat  it  alone.  You 
can  get  under  cover  in  New  York.  Don't  be  afraid 
I'll  squeal.  Nothing  like  that." 

"  Quit  and  leave  you  here,  Sherry !  "  said  the  other 
man.  "  I  should  say  not.  What  do  you  take  me  for? 
I'd  feel  better  doing  a  stretch  along  with  you,  Gillie, 
than  carving  a  steak  down  at  Daly's  alone,  and  count 
ing  a  roll. —  But  what's  the  use  of  the  sour  stuff,  now  ? 
Why  can't  we  go  back  together?  If  the  crowd 
has- 

The  two  men  were  facing  each  other  on  the  dark 
country  road.  They  could  not  even  see  each  other's 
faces.  But,  gropingly,  in  the  dark,  Sherry  Gilstar's 
hand  sought  and  found  Hop's  shoulder.  And  he  said, 
with  finality : 

"  There's  nothing  to  it,  Hop.  You'll  be  a  fool  to 
stay  with  me,  that's  all.  What  happened  up  in  the 
postoffice,  and  on  the  street  back  there,  has  finished  me. 
You  can't  see  it  —  I  don't  expect  you  to.  But  Tom, 
back  there,  has  put  it  all  over  me.  I'm  the  coward, 
Hop!  It's  Tom  that  showed  the  sand  in  the  pinch. 
The  yellow  streak  I  thought  was  in  Tom  is  running 
down  my  own  back !  Did  you  notice  his  face  when  he 
told  us  to  get  out!  It  was  big,  big!  something  bigger 
in  it  than  you  or  me  ever  showed,  Hop.  And  I  sold 
out  my  own  mother,  to  get  away,  understand  ?  Under 
stand,  Hop  —  sold  her  out !  He  handled  me  like  a 
baby,  Hop  —  like  a  five-year-old  kid  —  but  I  don't 
mind  that.  By  God,  something  makes  me  proud  of 
the  big  boy,  that  he  was  able  to  do  it.  It's  the  other 
thing  —  the  big  thing  —  taking  the  whole  chance  on 
himself  —  that's  what's  done  for  me. 

"And  did  you  notice  what  he  said,  Hop?  We 
called  him  a  tin  soldier,  didn't  we  ?  I  told  him  to  take 
off  the  uniform  and  not  disgrace  it!  I  told  him  that! 


148  KHAKI 

Hop,  it's  you  and  me  that's  disgraced  the  uniform. 
We've  thrown  it  in  the  mud  and  jumped  on  it!  The 
good  old  khaki,  Hop,  that  used  to  set  us  up  when  the 
band  played  —  what  have  we  done  to  it?" 

"  We're  in  bad.  I  guess  you're  right,"  echoed  Hop 
Murray,  mournfully.  "  We're  in  bad,  Sherry." 

Gilstar  went  on  as  though  he  had  not  heard  his 
companion.  "  I  thought  I  was  a  wise  guy,  Hop,  that's 
the  trouble.  I  thought  I  knew  a  whole  lot  more  than 
anybody  back  there.  If  I  hadn't  been  a  fathead,  I 
wouldn't  have  fallen  for  that  yarn  of  Deacon  Brad- 
shaw's  about  —  about  the  girl  and  Tom.  When  a 
fellow  knows  he  isn't  going  straight  and  clean,  he'll 
believe  anything  that  will  give  him  a  license  to  steal. 
Now  it's  Tom  that's  going  out  in  the  khaki,  and  I'm 
shooting  the  chutes  towards  the  hoose-gow.  Do  you 
see,  Hop?  Do  you  see  why  I'm  all  in?  I  can't  stand 
it,  I  tell  you.  I'm  going  to  crawl  into  the  nearest 
hole  and  pull  it  in  after  me." 

"Listen,  Gillie!"  said  Hop,  suddenly.  "They 
haven't  got  the  goods  on  us !  Your  brother  Tom 
won't  squeal,  will  he?  I'll  follow  you  anywhere  you 
want  to  go.  I'm  as  sore  on  this  stuff  as  you  are. 
Why  can't  we  beat  it  to  the  nearest  rookie  station  and 
enlist?  For  your  life,  they'll  grab  us.  They  want 
regulars.  We  can  lose  ourselves  in  the  army.  We'll 
be  '  over  there  '  in  a  month  or  so.  I'm  game.  \Vhat 
do  you  say?  " 

"  No.  It  won't  go,"  said  Sherry,  dismally. 
"  They've  got  our  number.  That  postoffice  bull  won't 
let  go  as  easy  as  that.  They'll  be  asking  questions 
we  can't  answer.  No  —  it  won't  work." 

"  But  couldn't  we  go  up  and  tell  'em  we've  been 
traveling  wrong,  but  we  want  to  get  back  in  the  army  ? 
They  need  men.  Suppose  we  said  we's  seen  the  right 
thing  to  do  —  we  never  killed  anybody  —  we  only 


KHAKI  149 

pulled  a  little  night  work  —  we'll  tell  'em  we've  re 
formed  - 

"  It  won't  go,  I  tell  you !  "  Sherry  almost  screamed. 
"  Didn't  we  read  in  the  paper  the  other  day  about  a 
judge  telling  a  fellow  he'd  put  him  on  probation  if  he'd 
join  the  army?  And  what  did  the  army  men  say? 
They  said,  '  We  don't  want  the  dirty  mutt.  We  want 
clean,  decent  men  in  the  army.  We're  not  running  any 
reform  school,  or  penitentiary.'  And  they're  right, 
Hop.  That's  the  way  we'd  have  felt  if  they'd  offered 
us  a  bunch  out  of  Sing-Sing,  when  we  were  in  the 
army.  We  might  have  been  a  little  rough,  but  we 
were  clean  then.  No,  it's  all  off,  I  tell  you." 

'  Then  there's  nothing  to  do  but  go  back  with  the 
crowd,"  added  Hop. 

"  Not  on  your  life.  I  tell  you  I'm  done.  I'm  done 
with  this  business  along  with  the  rest." 

"  Well,  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  You  can't  sit 
here  till  somebody  comes  along  with  the  wagon !  " 

There  was  a  long  silence.  Or  it  seemed  long,  to 
both  men.  Then  Gilstar's  hand  was  clapped  on  Hop's 
shoulder,  this  time  with  an  inspirational  wallop  back 
of  it.  His  voice  tingled  with  emotion  as  he  said: 

"  Hop,  I've  made  up  my  mind  what  to  do.  I've  got 
just  one  chance  to  square  myself.  I'm  going  to  take 
a  chance  on  earning  a  stretch.  I  don't  ask  you  to 
come  in  on  it.  You'd  be  a  fool  to  risk  it,  just  on  ac 
count  of  what  I  think.  But  I'm  going  to  make  good 
with  that  brother  of  mine,  if  it  takes  my  last  breath. 
And  I'm  going  to  make  good  with  the  old  U.  S.  A.  at 
the  same  time.  Listen,  Hop!  If  a  fellow  is  in  a 
place  where  he  needs  a  whole  bath,  all  over,  and  there 
isn't  enough  water,  he  can  wash  his  face  and  hands, 
anyway.  That's  the  way  I  feel.  Your  dope  about 
getting  back  to  the  army  is  right,  Hop.  That's  where 
I'm  going.  Maybe  they  won't  turn  a  man  down  who 


150  KHAKI 

comes  in  of  his  own  accord,  and  tells  the  truth.  Maybe 
they'll  send  me  up  for  a  year  or  so.  All  right;  I'll  do 
my  stretch  like  a  man,  and  I'll  come  out  clean.  I 
might  hit  a  judge  who  would  let  me  down  easy.  I'm 
going  to  take  a  chance." 

A  hand  found  one  of  Gilstar's  hands,  and  gripped  it. 

"Gillie!"  said  Hop  Murray.  "I'll  go  with  you! 
I'm  just  as  strong  for  the  army  as  you  are.  When 
we  saw  a  bunch  of  rookies  going  awa^y,  down  in  New 
York  the  other  day,  I  wanted  to  be  with  'em.  I  didn't 
say  anything  to  you  about  it;  but  something  grabbed 
me  inside;  I  could  hear  the  old  bugle  calling,  Gillie;  I 
wanted  to  be  back  there  where  you  cuss  the  reveille  but 
you  turn  out  just  the  same  and  feel  glad  of  it,  and 
where  you  grab  your  tinware  and  form  in  line,  hungry 
as  a  bear,  when  the  eats  are  passed,  and  where  you 
swipe  your  bunkie's  package  of  alfalfa,  but  you'd  go 
to  hell  for  him  if  he's  the  right  kind.  I  was  thinking 
about  all  those  things  before  we  tied  up  with  Louis 
and  the  crowd,  after  you  and  me  got  thrown  out  of 
Tredick  by  the  deacon  that  day  — 

"  You  did !  My  God,  Hop,  why  didn't  you  say  so 
then  ?  "  cried  Gilstar.  "If  you  only  had  tipped  me  — 

"  Well,  Gillie,"  was  the  reply,  "  I  always  figured 
you  had  the  brains  of  the  party ;  you  know  that.  1  saw 
you  were  dead  set  on  getting  back  with  something 
snappy  against  your  old  town,  because  the  girl's  father 
had  thrown  you  down,  and  —  what  could  I  say  ?  I 
wasn't  strong  for  this  crooked  work,  Gillie,  that's  the 
truth.  I've  been  ready  to  quit  any  time.  I  don't  want 
to  rub  it  in,  old  man,  but  when  you  framed  this  idea 
of  coming  back  and  blowing  the  postoffice  in  your  old 
burg,  I  thought  it  was  pretty  raw.  I  didn't  want  to  say 
anything.  It  was  all  your  funeral,  I  figured  - 

"  Don't !  "  cracked  out  Gilstar.  "  I  can't  stand  it, 
Hop !  I  can  see  it,  now  !  Raw  is  no  name  for  it.  It 


KHAKI  151 

was  the  lowest  down  thing  a  man  ever  did. —  But 
there's  something  worse  we've  done,  Hop,  and  that's 
what  I'm  thinking  of  now.  We've  dragged  the  old 
khaki  through  the  mud.  My  God,  Hop,  that's  what 
I  can't  bear  to  think  of !  You  remember  the  oath  we 
took !  And  it  wasn't  the  oath  so  much,  as  what  they 
meant  and  what  we  meant  when  they  gave  us  the  uni 
form.  Hop,  will  they  give  us  a  chance  again?  Will 
they?" 

"  I'm  willing  to  risk  it." 

"  Give  us  your  hand  on  it,  Hop." 

"Here,  Gillie!" 

"  Where  do  we  go  from  here  ?  "  said  Murray,  after 
a  silence.  '  There's  no  use  chasing  back  to  the  crowd. 
We  better  camp  here  till  light,  hadn't  we?  " 

"  No ! "  said  Gilstar,  at  once.  "  We're  going 
straight  now,  Hop.  Let's  start  by  being  square  even 
with  that  bunch  of  crooks.  We  can't  put  Louis  in 
dutch  by  not  showing  up  and  making  him  hang  around 
waiting  till  maybe  it's  too  late.  We  don't  want  to  be 
crooked  even  with  him,  now." 

"  But  what  are  you  going  to  say  when  we  get 
there?" 

"  I'm  going  to  cash  in  and  walk  away  a  white  man. 
Wre'll  tell  Louis  we're  through.  We'll  tell  him  we're 
going  to  enlist  —  but  we  won't  squeal  on  the  crowd, 
Hop  —  we'll  never  do  that.  Come  on !  " 

"  All  right,  Gillie.  But  just  the  same  I  think  we'd 
better  stay  here." 

Hop  had  no  more  to  say,  however,  and  as  Gilstar 
seemed  to  have  made  up  his  mind,  they  stumbled  along 
together. 


XIII 

THE  last  quarter  of  the  moon  had  sailed  up  out  of 
the  east,  like  an  orange-colored,  lop-sided  balloon.  At 
first  it  peered  through  the  dark  fringe  of  trees  on  the 
horizon  like  a  farm-house  afire.  It  gave  little  light ;  a 
stranger  in  the  country  would  not  have  been  helped  by 
it;  but  Sherry  Gilstar  had  tramped  every  foot  of  the 
ground.  A  few  minutes  later  they  were  cutting  across 
a  plowed  field,  every  furrow  of  which  reached  out  to 
trip  them.  Twice  the  city-born  Murray  went  full 
length  on  the  ground,  and  cursed  in  a  half-angry,  half- 
humorous  way  that  was  characteristic  of  his  good  na 
ture.  Suddenly  they  saw  dimly  the  outlines  of  a  big 
structure,  and  at  the  same  moment  came  abruptly 
against  an  automobile,  cleverly  backed  into  the  cover 
of  woodside-brush. 

"  Easy,  now !  "  whispered  Gilstar  to  his  companion. 
"  They're  here!  See  if  you  see  a  light  in  the  barn!  " 

No  light  was  visible.  They  got  upon  the  highway, 
which  they  had  approached  at  right  angles,  and  stood 
listening.  Then  Gilstar  whistled  twice.  A  second 
afterward  he  whistled  again. 

There  was  an  answering  whistle.  Then,  in  the 
darkness  made  just  a  little  less  dark  by  the  rising  moon, 
a  figure  appeared  at  the  corner  of  the  barn,  and  a  low 
voice  came  to  them:  "  Is  that  you,  boys?" 

In  response  to  their  word  of  recognition,  the  figure 
came  toward  them.  "  Where  have  you  been  all  this 
time?"  said  the  man  with  an  oath.  "  Did  you  think 
we  were  going  to  stay  here  the  rest  of  our  lives? 

152 


KHAKI  153 

Come  on  quick,  and  bring  the  stuff.  Hell's  broke 
loose!  Jakey's  squealed  on  us;  he  was  planted  before 
we  came!  But  he  won't  squeal  any  more.  Harry 
croaked  him  back  there  in  Arber,  when  the  shooting 
began  — " 

"  Killed  Jakey?  Harry  killed  Jakey?  "  gasped  Gil- 
star,  turning  cold. 

"  You  bet  your  life !  And  I  think  we  got  one  of  the 
bulls,  too.  Believe  me,  there's  a  riot  on.  There  was 
a  whole  posse  there  waiting  for  us.  We'd  have  walked 
into  'em,  if  Jakey  hadn't  been  so  anxious  to  get  away 
from  us.  I  had  my  suspicions  of  that  - 
all  the  time.  Come  on  quick,  now.  It's  damn  lucky 
you  know  the  country,  Gillie !  I've  got  ten  gallons  of 
gas  in  the  car,  but  we  can't  waste  any  of  it." 

While  he  was  talking,  this  speaker,  a  short,  stocky 
man,  with  great  breadth  of  shoulders,  had  been  walk 
ing  toward  the  rear  of  the  barn.  Like  most  barns  in 
the  vicinity,  this  one,  long  deserted  after  the  house  had 
burned,  was  built  on  a  hillside,  so  that  in  the  rear  was 
a  sloping  cellar  in  which  hogs  had  been  kept,  long 
years  before.  One  side  was  open,  the  others  were 
walled  with  stone.  At  the  rear,  hanging  from  a  nail, 
was  a  lantern,  the  globe  blackened  on  one  side  by  an 
uneven  wick,  which  spit  and  hissed.  In  the  ghastly 
rays  of  this  one  light,  the  four  figures  —  the  fourth 
man  was  standing  by  the  back-wall,  behind  the  lan 
tern  —  seemed  to  have  no  faces,  but  just  white  patches 
between  shoulders  and  hats. 

Louis  the  Blacksmith  turned  nervously  to  the  new 
comers  when  they  were  in  the  cellar.  "  Where's  the 
stuff?  "  he  croaked,  savagely.  "  Where  is  it?  "  And 
his  eyes  were  seeking  a  mail-sack  in  which  the  plunder 
from  Tredick  postoffice  should  have  been  brought. 
"  Did  you  see  any  registered?  "  he  added. 

"  We    just    barely    got    away,"    answered    Gilstar. 


154  KHAKI 

"  They  caught  us  dead,  in  the  postoffice.  We  didn't 
even  have  a  chance  to  get  to  work." 

There  was  no  face  visible  to  show  emotion  on  the 
part  of  the  leader,  but  a  snarl,  like  that  from  a  caged 
beast,  showed  how  he  received  the  news.  '  You  lie, 
Gillie !  "  he  ground  out.  "  Don't  you  try  to  hold  out 
on  us  !  Where's  your  bag!  You've  hid  it  somewhere, 
with  the  stuff !  It  won't  work  !  Murray,  where's  that 
stuff  ?  Quick,  now  ;  you  can't  put  nothing  over  on  us. 
Jakey  tried  that !  " 

"Gillie's  right!"  said  Hop  Murray,  eagerly. 
"  That's  the  truth,  Louis !  We  got  away  with  our 
skins,  that's  all.  We  wouldn't  hold  out  on  you  if  we 
had  anything." 

"  You  lie !  "  came  the  reply,  in  an  unrestrained  fury. 
"  You  said  it  was  an  easy  place  to  break.  You  said 
the  cop  there  would  be  asleep.  You  know  that  burg 
too  well  to  get  caught.  Come  on  with  that  stuff! 
Where  is  it?  Do  you  want  to  wait  here  till  we  get 
pinched?  " 

"  I'll  tell  you  the  truth,  Louis,"  said  Sherry  Gilstar. 
"  We  got  nothing.  We  were  caught  right,  I  tell  you. 
We  beat  it  back  here  to  tell  you  something  else.  Some 
thing's  happened  —  no  use  trying  to  tell  you  —  but 
we're  going  to  quit  the  crowd.  We're  done;  but  we 
wanted  to  quit  right.  We're  going  to  enlist  in  the 
army,  both  of  us.  You  needn't  be  afraid  of  us  squeal 
ing.  We  don't  know  a  thing  —  never  saw  you  or 
Harry  or  anybody.  So  you  can  leave  us  here.  I'll 
tell  you  any  road  you  want  to  know.  But  this  stuff 
is  all  off,  for  us." 

The  reply  was  a  horrible  laugh,  a  mirthless  guffaw 
fit  to  dry  up  the  marrow  in  a  man's  bones.  '  You  got 
one  more  think,  you  poor  simp!"  rapped  out  the 
broad-shouldered  man.  "  Don't  try  to  put  that  over 
on  me.  How  long  did  it  take  to  think  that  up,  you 


KHAKI  155 

two  boobs !  We've  put  away  one  squealer  to-night, 
and  don't  you  forget  it !  Enlist  in  the  army !  Where's 
the  stuff?  What  have  you  done  with  it?  Come  on, 
now,  quick.  Gillie.  Have  a  look  at  this !  " 

Something  flashed  before  Sherry's  eyes.  He  knew 
what  it  was.  He  knew  that  he  was  looking  at  a  dark 
spot  where  death  was  crouched  ready  to  leap  for  his 
eyes.  It  flashed  into  his  head,  for  the  first  time  since 
they  left  the  postofiice,  that  neither  he  nor  Hop  Mur 
ray  had  their  guns  with  them.  They  were  back  there 
in  that  mail-sack  where  Tom  had  dropped  them.  They 
had  been  so  busy  wrestling  with  the  future  that  they 
had  never  considered  the  revolvers.  Nor  had  Gilstar 
reasoned  out  what  Louis  would  do,  when  they  met. 

Now  Gilstar  saw,  too  late,  what  he  should  have  been 
prepared  for.  The  leader  of  the  crowd,  almost  be 
side  himself  with  the  turn  matters  had  taken  —  driven 
into  a  corner  by  the  very  fact  that  both  he  and  Allen 
were  probably  already  murderers,  was  ready  for  any 
thing. 

Yet,  this  time,  facing  his  second  encounter  of  the 
night,  Sherry  felt  an  inflow  of  strength  —  not  merely 
of  courage,  for  he  had  enough  of  that  —  but  of  a 
strength  that  came  from  somewhere  outside  and  be 
yond  himself.  In  the  grip  of  his  brother  he  had  felt 
weak;  he  had  not  been  able  to  exert  himself;  there 
was  something  lacking.  Now,  conscious  that  a  tube 
of  steel  was  ready  and  willing  to  vomit  lead  at  him, 
he  was  even  buoyant  in  his  manner.  He  said,  evenly : 

"  Wait,  Louis.  Don't  do  anything  foolish.  I've 
told  you  the  truth.  So  has  Hop.  We  got  nothing  at 
the  postoffice.  You  know  I'm  no  squealer.  We 
needn't  either  of  us  come  back  here  if  we  wanted  to 
double-cross  you.  You  can  see  that,  can't  you?  We 
came  back  because  we  wanted  to  play  the  game  right, 
and  then  quit.  I'm  not  preaching  at  you  or  any  one 


156  KHAKI 

else,  Louis ;  every  man's  got  to  see  it  for  himself.  Hop 
and  I  —  we've  seen  it.  We're  done  with  this.  We're 
going  back  in  the  army  —  if  we  can  get  there.  There's 
something  doing,  Louis,  that  we  haven't  been  thinking 
of,  because  we've  been  thinking  about  what  we  could 
get  for  ourselves.  But  the  old  flag  is  grabbing  for 
us,  and  we're  going  back.  That's  all." 

"  Is  that  all  ?  "  was  the  sneering  answer.  "  The 
old  flag  is  calling,  is  it?  You  think  you  can  put  that 
over  on  me,  do  you  ?  I  always  knew  you  two  pups 
were  yellow.  Want  to  sneak  back  and  peel  potatoes 
for  the  guv-ment,  eh?  Why,  you  poor  nuts,  I'll  show 
you  what  flag  is  grabbing  for  you.  I'll  stuff  a  flag 
down  your  squealing  throat  that'll  hold  you  just  as 
hard  as  the  dirty  American  rag  you  seem  to  think  so 
much  of  - 

The  pale  yellow  light  flashed  along  the  nickeled 
barrel  of  the  revolver  as  it  wavered  ever  so  slightly. 
In  that  infinitesimal  part  of  a  second  Gilstar  knew  that 
the  man  who  faced  him  was  driven  desperate,  and  was 
going  the  limit.  Louis  was  more  afraid  of  being 
squealed  on,  now,  than  of  being  a  murderer  a  second 
time.  It  may  have  been  imagination,  or  it  may  have 
been  a  glint  of  intuition,  but  Sherry  thought  he  heard 
the  faint  metallic  click  of  the  release  spring  of  the 
bandit's  automatic.  It  was  time  to  act,  and  he  acted 
with  the  instinctiveness  of  an  animal.  With  a  lunge 
that  was  at  once  an  instantaneous  poise  and  forward 
movement,  he  plunged  head  first  at  the  abdomen  of  the 
leader. 

As  his  head  sank  into  the  vulnerable  spot,  Gilstar 
felt  the  bones  of  his  neck  creak  and  bend  with  the 
impact.  The  concussion  sent  a  tremor  along  the  spinal 
cord  which  carried  nausea  into  his  stomach.  But  at 
the  same  time  he  shot  up  his  left  hand  to  catch  the  arm 


KHAKI  157 

which  held  the  pistol,  hoping  to  dash  the  weapon  loose 
from  the  blacksmith's  hand. 

With  a  hollow  groan,  such  as  might  have  come  from 
a  base-drum,  tapped  gently  in  a  bar-room,  Louis  went 
flat  on  his  back.  The  terrific  blow  would  have  counted 
out  an  ordinary  man.  But  the  blacksmith  was  no 
ordinary  man.  His  build  was  that  of  a  cave-man, 
long  ape-like  arms,  and  a  tough  animal-like  hide,  free 
from  the  ordinary  human  sensitiveness,  Besides, 
Sherry  had  hit  him  a  trifle  too  high.  The  result  was 
that  Louis  went  dowrn,  but  the  wind  did  not  go  wholly 
out  of  him,  and  the  pistol  clung  to  his  right  hand. 

When  the  blacksmith  went  over,  Sherry  Gilstar  went 
with  him.  He  sprawled  headlong  on  his  antagonist, 
and  lost  his  grip  on  the  gun-arm  he  was  trying  to  hold. 
His  right  hand,  in  that  moment  when  the  man  under 
him  was  sucking  in  his  breath,  went  to  the  bull-throat, 
and  tried  to  get  a  grip  on  it.  But  it  was  a  throat  that 
was  too  big  for  any  Gilstar  hand.  It  was  a  throat 
that  heaved  inward  and  outward  with  each  breath  - 
that  was  like  a  ball  of  India-rubber  to  the  touch  of  the 
fingers.  There  seemed  to  be  no  place  to  get  hold  of  it. 
He  heard  the  man  under  him  gasp  and  cry :  "  Don't 
shoot,  Harry !  "  as  a  warning  to  the  fourth  man  in  the 
cellar,  whom  he  expected  to  come  to  his  aid  as  a  mat 
ter  of  course.  "  Get  him  off." 

At  that  moment  Gilstar's  left  hand  struck  something 
cold  —  slid  along  over  it  to  a  big  wrist.  He  let  go 
the  neck  with  his  other  hand,  and  clung  to  this  wrist 
with  both.  And  in  that  moment  he  knew  that  he  was 
no  match  for  this  astounding  animal  writhing  beneath 
him.  The  wrist  began  to  curl  inward  toward  him. 
He  exerted  all  his  strength  against  it.  He  could  feel 
the  muscles,  like  live  snakes  crawling  inside  a  burlap- 
bag  —  it  was  precisely  like  trying  to  hold  snakes  in 


158  KHAKI 

that  way.  He  felt  that  the  gun  was  coming  in  toward 
him  and  he  couldn't  stop  it.  And  yet,  in  that  instant, 
he  felt  strangely  satisfied.  With  possibly  only  another 
minute  of  life  left  to  him,  he  whispered  to  himself. 

"  Not  so  bad,  Sherry;  not  so  bad,  after  all." 

And  the  sentence,  which  had  no  meaning  to  anybody 
else  in  the  world,  meant  a  whole  world  to  Sherry  Gil- 
star.  He  felt  that  he  was  going  out  a  whole  lot  cleaner 
than  he  had  been  traveling  for  a  long  time. 

There  was  a  quick  flash  before  his  eyes,  accompanied 
by  a  nervous  kick  that  went  through  every  nerve  of 
his  body.  There  was  a  sound  that  was  not  the  crack 
of  a  pistol,  as  the  ears  expect  to  catch  it;  it  was  rather 
the  sound  that  might  be  made  by  slapping  a  bolt  of 
heavy  cloth  with  a  yard-stick.  There  was  a  sensation 
in  his  left  shoulder  as  though  a  drop  of  hot  water  had 
fallen  on  the  skin  —  nothing  more  painful  than  that  - 
though  the  drop  seemed  to  radiate  heat  for  several 
inches  around  where  it  had  fallen.  Then  his  head  sud 
denly  became  very  warm,  and  he  felt  as  though  he  were 
slipping  —  slipping  off  a  roof  somewhere,  and  though 
he  tried  vainly  to  hold  on,  there  was  nothing  his  fingers 
or  toes  could  catch.  .  .  . 

"  This  is  IT,"  he  was  conscious  of  saying,  "  and  it 
isn't  bad  at  all;  not  bad  at  all." 

Something  hammered  once  near  his  face ;  hammered 
once  more;  a  few  more  drops  of  hot  liquid  fell  on  his 
nose  and  cheeks. 

And  suddenly  the  man  underneath  him  went  as  limp 
as  Sherry  Gilstar  felt.  At  the  same  time  Hop  Mur 
ray's  voice  came  out  of  the  distance  —  twelve  miles 
away,  at  least  —  saying : 

"  He's  got  his,  Sherry.  He  didn't  get  you,  did  he? 
My  God,  Sherry,  he  didn't  get  you,  did  he?"  And 
then  Sherry  felt  himself  being  lifted  to  his  feet. 

"No,  no  —  nothing's  the  matter,"  Sherry  was  re- 


KHAKI  159 

plying,  mechanically.  "  What's  happened,  Hop  ?  I 
don't  understand." 

"  Oh,  I  just  put  Louis  to  sleep  with  the  butt  end  of 
this!  "  said  Hop,  cheerfully.  "  Funny  how  easy  it  was 
to  take  the  fight  out  of  him  by  tapping  him  on  the  conk 
a  couple  times." 

Murray  dragged  Gilstar  up  to  the  light.  "  You've 
got  blood  on  your  face !  "  he  cried.  But  he  added,  with 
relief.  "  Oh,  I  see.  Just  a  few  spatters  off  Louis's 
head.  It's  all  right." 

Sherry  Gilstar  leaned  against  the  stone  wall.  He 
passed  his  arm  over  his  face  dreamily,  and  muttered, 
"  Thought  —  you  —  we  both  lost  our  guns  in  the  post- 
office,  Hop." 

"  Yeh.  We  did,  Sherry.  That  was  careless  of  us. 
This  was  Harry's  gun.  There's  Harry  asleep  over 
there.  He  ain't  much  hurt.  I  just  fanned  him  one 
under  the  ear  when  I  saw  you  mix  it  with  Louis." 

"Hop,  you  saved  my  life!"  murmured  Gilstar. 

"  Forget  it,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  just  had  a  chance 
to  get  back  at  you  for  what  you  did  for  me  out  in  the 
Islands.  That  is,  I've  just  begun  to  pay  up.  I'm 
tickled  to  death  about  it. —  I'll  tell  you  how  it  was, 
Sherry,  old  boy.  When  you  were  talking  with  Louis, 
there,  I  knew  something  was  going  to  happen.  All  of 
a  sudden  it  occurred  to  me  that  your  baby  brother  back 
in  Tredick  had  frisked  us  for  our  guns.  It  didn't  look 
good  at  all.  I  could  see  from  the  expression  on 
Harry's  face  that  he  and  Louis  had  talked  it  all  over 
in  advance.  Louis  was  trying  to  pick  a  quarrel.  I'd 
bet  my  last  dollar  they  were  waiting  for  us  to  come 
back  with  the  stuff,  and  then  give  us  a  couple  of  stiff 
wallops  and  beat  it  alone.  So  when  I  saw  you  peel 
off  that  goat  trick  on  Louis,  I  figured  it  was  time  to  do 
something.  Harry  had  his  eye  on  you  two;  so  I  just 
reached  over  and  passed  him  a  few  stars.  Then,  when 


160  KHAKI 

Louis  was  getting  rough  I  thought  I'd  better  lay  him 
out. —  Now  it's  up  to  you,  Sherry.  We'd  better  beat 
it  out  of  here  while  they're  asleep,  hadn't  we?  " 

The  lethargy  fell  from  Sherry  Gilstar.  He  reached 
out  and  grasped  Hop's  arm.  A  great  inspiration  was 
glistening  in  his  eyes,  under  that  feeble  lamp.  "  Hop," 
he  cried,  "  we're  in  right,  for  once !  The  luck  was 
broken  for  us  at  last!  Js  there  any  rope  around  here 
—  anything  to  tie  up  these  two  birds  —  anything  — 
look  around !  An  old  chain !  Anything  they  use  on 
a  farm!  What's  that  hanging  from  that  hook?  No: 
that's  a  cobweb !  Look  over  there !  Isn't  that  a 
rope?" 

"  Yes,  this  is  a  rope,"  replied  Murray,  bringing  down 
the  dusty,  webby  article  at  which  Sherry  was  point 
ing.  "  But  what's  the  game,  Sherry  ?  We  don't  want 
these  lobsters  for  souvenirs,  do  we?  Let's  leave  'em 
here  to  find  their  own  way  home." 

"  You  don't  understand,  Hop !  It's  all  coming  our 
way.  We  came  here  to  do  the  straight  thing,  and 
Louis  wouldn't  stand  for  it.  He  tried  to  climb  out  of 
here  over  our  carcasses,  Hop !  We'll  turn  the  same 
trick  on  them.  These  men  are  going  to  help  us  to  go 
right,  now. —  Tie  'em  up,  Hop ;  something's  the  matter 
with  my  left  arm,  it  feels  numb. —  Louis  must  have 
wrenched  it  someway.  Make  it  binding  on  Louis, 
Hop ;  he's  a  human  ox,  believe  me.  When  you  get 
him  properly  trussed  up,  you  better  look  in  the  tool 
box  of  the  jitney  out  there,  for  some  more  rope,  or 
chains. —  We  can't  let  'em  get  away,  now.  I  tell  you, 
Hop,  we're  going  to  climb  out  of  this  rotten  business 
on  their  shoulders.  It's  the  fortune  of  war,  Hop : 
nothing  sneaky  about  it.  They  had  their  chance,  and 
we  —  you  —  beat  them  to  it.  Now  it's  our  turn.'1 

"  You  mean  we're  going  to  march  'em  in  to  the  town 


KHAKI  161 

and  turn  'em  over  to  your  brother,"  shouted  Hop,  as 
the  idea  dawned  on  him. 

"  You  said  something!  Tie  'em  up,  Hop,  and  make 
no  mistake  about  it.  They're  worth  their  weight  in 
gold  to  us.  I  wouldn't  swap  Louis  and  Harry  here 
for  all  the  plunder  in  the  world.  They've  shown  us 
the  way  to  come  back  and  all  we  got  to  do  now  is  to 
cash  in  and  follow  it!  " 

And  thus  it  was,  that  at  half  past  six  in  the  morning, 
a  few  early  risers  along  the  road  that  led  into  Tredick, 
saw  four  men  marching,  two  abreast,  headed  town- 
ward.  The  two  men  in  front  sometimes  stopped,  as 
if  to  argue  a  point  —  and  then,  as  if  the  argument 
failed  in  the  face  of  a  bigger  argument  from  behind, 
the  procession  moved  along  again.  Both  men  in  the 
front  line  had  their  hands  behind  their  backs.  From 
time  to  time  the  two  men  in  the  rear  burst  into  a 
marching  song  —  a  song  negligible  enough  in  itself, 
perhaps,  but  made  known  from  one  end  of  the  world 
to  the  other  by  khaki-clad  men  who  had  sung  it  with 
an  honest  will.  It  was  to  the  effect  that  there  would 
be  a  hot  time  in  the  old  town  that  night. 


XIV 

THE  sole  idea  in  Tom  Gilstar's  head  as  he  paced  his 
lonely  round  of  Tredick  streets  until  daylight  that 
morning,  was  that  he  was  going  away.  There  was  a 
melancholy  satisfaction  in  that.  In  another  three  days 
he  would  be  in  camp  somewhere;  and  not  long  after 
that  he  would  be  on  his  way  to  France. 

To  France !  No  longer  did  the  dread  of  crossing  the 
ocean  and  of  being  thrown  into  that  maelstrom  of  war, 
oppress  him.  It  seemed  even  desirable.  To  get  away, 
anywhere  —  that  was  the  idea.  And  he  felt  that  when 
the  time  came,  he  would  show  them  —  or  show  him 
self,  at  least  —  that  he  could  fight  and  die  like  a  man. 

Yet  he  dreaded  the  next  few  hours  that  were  to 
come.  He  knew  that  the  whole  ground  would  be 
gone  over;  the  panel  out  of  the  side  door  of  the  post- 
office,  the  bars  wrenched  from  their  places;  the  ques 
tions  that  would  be  hurled  at  him ;  the  sneers,  ill  con 
cealed  or  not  concealed  at  all;  the  inevitable  charge  of 
cowardice.  What  did  it  all  mean,  anyway?  What 
was  this  net  of  destiny  that  was  drawn  so  mercilessly 
around  him?  He  felt  like  a  man  who  has  laboriously 
worked  his  way  to  the  top  of  a  deep  well,  stone  by 
stone,  toe-hold  by  finger-hold,  only  to  grasp  at  a  loose 
stone  at  the  top,  and  go  crashing  down  to  the  bottom 
again. 

And  Sherry!  That  was  a  nightmare.  He  didn't 
dare  to  think  of  it.  Sherry,  of  whom  he  had  been  so 
secretly  proud  —  who  had  seemed  to  carry  something 
of  knightly  chivalry  about  him  —  appearing  in  the 
guise  of  a  common  thief,  and  willing  to  save  his  skin 
by  the  meanest  of  all  mean  devices!  The  good  fellow 

162 


KHAKI  163 

simply  put  the  picture  out  of  his  mind.  He  couldn't 
grapple  with  it;  and  he  had  so  long  been  the  carrier 
of  burdens  that  he  faced  this  new  disgrace  with  a  dull 
fortitude  and  a  sealed  mouth.  Whatever  happened, 
Tom  was  determined  that  his  mother  and  sister  should 
never  know.  They  believed  that  Sherry  was  coming 
back  some  day  with  honor.  Let  them  go  on  believing 
it! 

At  six  o'clock  Tom  Gilstar  knew  that  his  mother 
was  already  stirring  in  the  house,  as  she  was  always  an 
early  riser.  There  was  no  telephone  at  the  Gilstar 
home,  but  the  next-door  neighbor  had  one,  so  Tom 
went  into  the  Town  Hall,  and  called  the  Werdens. 
"  Will  you  please  tell  my  mother,"  he  said,  "  that  I 
won't  be  home  at  the  regular  time  this  morning.  Tell 
her  it's  nothing  important,  but  I've  got  a  little  business 
down  town  to  attend  to.  I'll  probably  be  home  some 
time  in  the  forenoon." 

As  Tom  came  out  of  the  Town  Hall,  and  locked  the 
door  after  him,  he  saw  Sergeant  Gillis  just  lighting  a 
cigarette  on  the  porch  of  the  hotel,  opposite.  Fre 
quently  the  two  had  gone  to  breakfast  together,  at  Mrs. 
Gilstar's,  at  this  hour.  So  Gillis  walked  across  the 
street,  and  after  returning  Tom's  salute,  said,  cheer 
fully  : 

"  All  ready  to  go  to  breakfast?  " 

In  the  next  moment,  however,  after  he  had  glanced 
at  Tom's  face,  the  other  man  asked,  "  Why,  what's 
the  matter,  Tom  ?  You  look  as  pale  as  a  ghost.  Not 
feeling  sick,  are  you?  " 

"  Oh,  no ;  there's  nothing  the  matter.  But  I  don't 
think  I'll  go  down  home  just  yet.  I  don't  feel  hungry, 
somehow.  Just  telephoned  my  mother  I  wouldn't  be 
down  till  later." 

The  officer  looked  at  the  big  fellow  keenly.  "  Don't 
try  to  kid  me,"  he  said  good-naturedly.  "  You're  wor- 


164  KHAKI 

ried  about  something.  I  guess  I  know  how  you  feel. 
You're  thinking  that  you've  got  to  go  away  from  here 
pretty  soon.  But  you  don't  want  to  feel  that  way, 
Tom.  You'll  get  acquainted  with  the  other  fellows 
quicker  than  you  think.  It's  hard  the  first  day  or  two. 
You  don't  know  anybody,  and  it  seems  as  if  you  never 
would.  At  the  end  of  a  week  you  know  half  your 
company  by  their  first  names,  and  everybody  has  tried 
to  borrow  money  of  you. —  I'll  wait  a  while,  and  we'll 
go  down  together.  Come  on  over  to  the  office  and 
have  a  smoke,  and  you'll  feel  better." 

"  No;  it  isn't  that,"  protested  Tom;  but  he  was  glad, 
somehow,  of  the  company  of  this  soldier  for  whom 
he  had  acquired  a  real  respect. 

They  went  upstairs  to  the  recruiting  office.  It  was 
cold  and  damp  in  the  room,  and  a  lingering  odor  of 
cigarette  smoke  whirled  at  them  as  they  opened  the 
door.  Hardly  had  they  seated  themselves  when  there 
was  the  whirr  of  an  automobile  engine,  as  it  was 
stopped,  outside.  Sergeant  Gillis  went  to  the  window 
and  looked  out.  Then  he  threw  up  the  sash. 

"  Hello !  "  cried  a  man  by  the  side  of  the  automobile, 
looking  up  at  the  window,  "  where  can  I  find  the  con 
stable —  Gilstar  or  whatever  his  name  is?  I've  just 
come  from  his  house  and  they  told  me  I  might  find  him 
around  the  square  here." 

"  Why,  he's  right  here,"  replied  Gillis.  Then  turn 
ing  to  Tom  he  said,  "  Somebody  down  there  looking 
for  you.  Shall  I  tell  him  to  come  up?  " 

Before  Tom  Gilstar  could  reply,  there  was  the  sound 
of  the  caller's  feet  on  the  stairway.  Tom  jumped  to 
his  feet.  He  had  no  doubt  as  to  the  identity  of  the 
man  in  the  automobile.  He  turned  toward  the  door 
without  a  word,  and  waited.  There  was  a  perfunctory 
knock,  and  the  door  was  thrown  open.  Inspector 
Cracknell  strode  in. 


KHAKI  165 

All  the  anger,  disappointment  and  mortification  of  a 
man  who  has  seen  his  best  laid  plans  set  at  naught,  and 
his  reputation  placed  in  jeopardy,  were  depicted  in  the 
inspector's  face.  His  eyes,  commonly  impassive  and 
metallic,  encompassed  the  big  fellow  before  them,  with 
cynical  asperity.  Two  red  spots  flared  at  the  cheek 
bones,  and  the  bristly  mustache  twitched  as  he  framed 
the  contemptuous  words : 

"  Well,  you've  made  a  nice  mess  of  it,  you  big  boob! 
I  never  trusted  a  hick  cop  yet  but  he  threw  me.  Had 
'em  in  your  grip,  and  let  'em  get  away,  didn't  you? 
What  tree  did  you  take  to,  Gilstar,  when  they  threat 
ened  to  slap  your  face  ?  You  big  boob !  You  haven't 
got  the  nerve  of  a  rabbit!  I  s'pose  they  took  every 
thing  under  their  arms  and  walked  away  with  it,  didn't 
they?" 

Sergeant  Gillis  was  staring  at  the  man  all  the  while, 
understanding  not  a  bit  of  it.  He  looked  from  the  in 
spector  to  Tom.  He  saw  Tom  standing  stolidly,  with 
averted  eyes  and  downcast  head.  All  the  sergeant 
could  understand  was  that  his  big  recruit  was  being 
"  bawled  out,"  as  he  would  have  said,  by  a  stranger. 
And  the  sergeant  didn't  like  that.  He  walked  over  to 
the  stranger  and  stuck  his  square  jaw  toward  the  vehe 
ment  face. 

"Wait  a  minute,  wait  a  minute!"  cried  Gillis. 
"  What  do  you  think  this  is,  a  bar-room?  What  d'ye 
mean  by  coming  in  here  and  insulting  this  soldier? 
Go  home  and  tell  your  troubles  to  your  family. — 
What's  he  mean,  anyway,  Tom?  Ever  see  him  be 
fore?" 

"  I'm  a  postoffice  inspector  —  get  that!  "  roared  the 
stranger.  "  My  name  is  Cracknell.  I'll  show  you  — 

A  finger  shot  out  under  the  nose  of  the  detective, 
and  shook  there  warningly.  "  I  don't  care  if  you 
are  the  whole  postoffice  department,"  said  Gillis, 


1 66  KHAKI 

quietly.  "  This  is  the  recruiting  office  of  the  United 
States  Army,  and  I'm  in  charge  of  it,  and  I'll  give  you 
ten  seconds  to  get  on  the  other  side  of  that  door, — 
and  you  get  that." 

"  I  tell  you  —  "  began  the  inspector,  in  a  milder  voice, 
and  reaching  for  the  door-knob  prudently.  But  Tom 
Gilstar  interrupted,  saying  in  a  heavy  voice  that 
sounded  almost  devoid  of  interest : 

"  No,  sergeant,  this  gentleman  is  —  I  mean  he 
means  all  right.  It's  true,  I  let  them  get  away  —  they 
broke  into  the  postoffice  here  last  night,  and  they  got 
away  —  two  men  —  but  they  didn't  take  anything." 

"Broke  into  the  postoffice  last  night  —  here?" 
echoed  Sergeant  Gillis.  "  Great  Snakes,  and  I  was 
asleep !  " 

The  sergeant's  sole  regret,  as  the  news  came  to  him, 
seemed  to  be  that  an  exciting  episode  had  occurred 
while  he  was  asleep,  and  nobody  had  had  the  decency 
to  wake  him  up.  Then  he  went  on,  reflectively,  "  So 
that's  why  you  looked  so  gloomy  this  morning,  was 
it?  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  about  it?  —  All  right,  in 
spector,  sit  down  and  have  a  cigarette,  and  keep  your 
shirt  on.  I  guess  you've  had  'em  get  away  from  you 
sometimes,  haven't  you?  " 

"  You  may  think  it's  a  joke,  but  it  isn't,"  growled 
Cracknell,  pacing  up  and  down  the  floor  nervously. 
"  My  running  mate,  Jim  Teague,  is  in  the  hospital 
down  at  Arber,  with  a  bullet  in  his  right  lung,  and  they 
croaked  one  of  their  own  crowd  who  was  working  for 
me.  And  there  are  four  of  them,  desperate  men, 
somewhere  in  the  country  round  here.  Two  of  them 
were  here,  and  this  man  Gilstar  let  them  get  away 
from  him." 

"  And  how  many  got  away  from  you?  "  asked  Ser 
geant  Gillis,  blandly. 

The  sarcasm  sent  the  color  into  the  inspector's  face. 


KHAKI  167 

"  That's  all  right,"  he  ground  out.  "  You  think  you're 
smart,  I  suppose.  But  these  two  who  came  here  were 
a  couple  of  raw  boys  who  could  have  been  rounded  up 
easy.  I  was  in  Springhaven,  myself.  The  two  older 
yeggs  went  after  the  office  at  Arber,  instead.  I  don't 
know  how  they  got  away.  But  there  was  a  fight  down 
there,  all  right.  Up  here  it  was  different.  I  tell  you, 
sergeant,  I  charge  this  man  Gilstar  with  cowardice ! 
I  never  knocked  any  man  for  putting  up  a  stiff  fight, 
and  losing.  But  I  tell  you,  this  man  is  yellow.  What 
did  he  telephone  to  me  at  Springhaven?  I've  got  the 
message  right  here  just  as  it  was  written  down  at  the 
police  station. 

" '  I  don't  know  where  they  went,'  Cracknell  went 
on.  '  /  don't  know  the  direction  they  took.'  That  got 
the  goat  of  the  desk  man  at  the  station,  and  he  says  he 
charged  Gilstar  here  with  being  yellow  and  ducking  a 
fight  with  them,  and  this  guy  admitted  it.  He  said, 
1  Yes,  probably  I  am.'  You  can't  deny  it,  Gilstar ! 
Those  were  your  own  words.  You  admitted  you  saw 
them  and  put  up  no  fight,  but  let  them  get  away,  and 
ran  so  fast  in  the  other  direction  you  couldn't  say  what 
direction  they  took.  You  admitted  that.  You're  a 
coward  by  your  own  admission. —  Now  I  don't  care 
what  kind  of  a  poor  fish  they  have  to  look  after  the 
street  lights  here  in  Tredick,  but  to  take  care  of  post- 
office  property  they've  got  to  have  a  man,  and  I'll  be 
here  later  to  tell  them  so.  And  I'm  here  to  say  that 
the  army  ought  to  know  what  kind  of  a  man  it's  get 
ting  when  they  put  a  uniform  on  you. —  You  can  do 
as  you  see  fit,  sergeant,  but  this  man  ought  to  be 
drummed  out,  I  tell  you." 

Gillis  was  looking  sharply  at  Tom  Gilstar.  The 
words  of  the  inspector  carried  conviction.  He  seemed 
to  know  what  he  was  talking  about.  Somewhere  there 
lurked  in  the  sergeant's  mind  a  recollection  of  Tom's 


1 68  KHAKI 

queer  admissions  to  him  about  being  lacking  in  courage. 
He  hadn't  paid  any  attention  to  them  at  the  time,  but 
now  they  took  a  definite  meaning.  He  was  waiting  to 
hear  Tom  say  something  for  himself.  Instead  the  big 
fellow  was  silent.  The  intense  pride  which  Sergeant 
Gillis  felt  in  the  uniform  always  made  him  writhe  at 
the  slightest  imputation  against  the  manhood  of  any 
wearer  of  it. 

"  Speak  up,  for  God's  sake,  Tom !  "  cried  Gillis. 
"  This  man  is  charging  you  with  being  a  coward.  Tell 
your  side  of  the  story !  You  didn't  run,  did  you?  It's 
no  disgrace  if  they  gave  you  the  slip  in  a  fair  scrap. 
Did  you  have  a  chance  to  use  your  gun?  Come  on, 
Tom,  speak  up!  " 

Tom  gave  his  superior  a  look  which  was  pitiable  in 
its  defenselessness.  "  I  did  what  I  could,  sergeant," 
he  uttered  slowly  and  painfully.  "  I  am  not  a  coward. 
If  I  ever  was,  I'm  not  any  more.  All  I  want  is  to 
serve  the  flag  now.  I  don't  care  what  happens  to  me. 
I'm  all  done  thinking  of  that.  There  were  reasons  — 
I  can't  explain  —  why  I  couldn't  arrest  those  men, 
I  couldn't,  that's  all.  I'll  be  glad  to  leave  here.  I 
want  you  to  send  me  away  to-day,  if  you  can." 

"It  sounds  fishy,  doesn't  it?"  jeered  the  inspector, 
grinning  horribly  at  Gillis.  "  Does  it  sound  right  to 
you?  Are  you  going  to  swallow  that?  " 

The  sergeant  shook  his  head.  He  resented  the  man 
ner  of  the  detective ;  but  at  the  same  time  he  was  begin 
ning  to  conclude  that  something  was  radically  wrong 
with  this  big  fellow  he  had  recruited.  His  mind  went 
back  to  the  day  when  Tom  emitted  a  good  deal  of  senti 
mental  talk  about  being  unable  to  kill  a  man.  He  won 
dered  whether  this  was  at  the  bottom  of  it  —  whether 
Tom  had  really  tried  to  uphold  the  law  as  he  was  sup 
posed  to  do  —  whether,  in  fact,  he  hadn't  done  pre 
cisely  as  the  inspector  claimed,  taken  to  his  heels  at 


KHAKI  169 

sight  of  the  burglars.  He  was  frowning,  dissatisfied, 
when  there  came  a  gentle  rap  at  the  door.  "  Come 
in !  "  he  yelled. 

The  door  opened,  and  the  men  saw  there,  hesitating 
on  the  threshold,  a  little  silvery-haired  woman.  There 
was  a  look  of  anxiety  on  her  face,  and  she  looked  tim 
idly  at  the  three  men  in  the  room. 

"  I  —  perhaps  I  shouldn't  have  come  here,"  she 
said.  "  But  I  was  worried  about  you,  Tom.  They 
told  me  downstairs  that  you  were  up  here.  I  won 
dered  why  you  telephoned  you  weren't  coming  home. 
I  was  afraid  something  was  the  matter.  There  isn't, 
is  there?  " 

'*  Don't  be  afraid,  Mrs.  Gilstar,"  said  Sergeant  Gillis, 
gently,  to  the  little  woman.  '  You're  quite  welcome." 
At  the  same  time  he  passed  in  front  of  the  inspector, 
saying  to  him  in  an  undertone,  "  Have  a  heart,  now, 
inspector!  This  is  the  lad's  mother.  And  the  best 
little  woman  in  this  town !  " 

But  the  request  fell  on  deaf  ears.  Cracknell  -was 
too  highly  incensed  to  consider  the  feelings  of  Mrs. 
Gilstar  or  any  one  else.  "  I  can't  help  it !  "  he  snarled. 
"  I'm  going  to  the  bottom  of  this.  How  do  I  know 
that  they  didn't  bribe  Gilstar,  to  let  them  get  away 
with  it  ?  I  tell  you  it  looks  bad.  Either  he's  a  coward, 
or  he's  crooked  —  and  I  don't  see  why  I  should  keep 
it  quiet  any  longer,  because  I'm  going  through  with  it 
to  the  bottom,  I  tell  you." 

"  Have  a  heart,  1  tell  you!  "  snapped  Gillis.  At  the 
same  time,  he  strode  over  to  the  little  woman  and  took 
her  by  the  arm.  "If  you  don't  mind,  I'll  see  you  down 
stairs,"  he  said.  "  I  —  this  isn't  any  place  for  you 
just  now,  Mrs.  Gilstar." 

But  the  mother  had  heard  enough  to  tell  her  that 
something  was  indeed  the  trouble  with  Tom.  She 
didn't  understand  it,  at  all.  The  word  "  coward " 


170  KHAKI 

paled  her  soft  cheeks,  and  she  looked  beseechingly  at 
her  son.  And  she  stubbornly  refused  to  follow  the 
sergeant's  suggestion,  and  be  led  away. 

"  Tom ! "    she    cried.     "  They    don't    mean    you ! 
They  don't  mean  that  you've  done  anything  wrong  - 
or    cowardly,    Tom !     I    won't    believe    it.     Tell    me, 
Tom,  dear,  what's  the  matter.     I  knew  there  was  some 
thing  wrong,  or  you  wouldn't  have  telephoned." 

"  By  God,  I  can't  stand  this !  "  muttered  the  good- 
hearted  Sergeant  Gillis.  "  This  is  too  raw.  If  you've 
got  any  heart  at  all,  inspector  — 

Gillis  stopped  short.  Or  rather,  his  sentence  was 
stopped  short  by  the  crack  of  a  revolver  in  the  street 
below. 

Instantly  the  inspector's  hand  went  to  his  hip.  He 
forgot  all  about  Tom  Gilstar.  "  There's  something 
doing ! "  he  cried,  and  leaped  for  the  door.  He 
brushed  Mrs.  Gilstar  aside  unceremoniously  and  rat 
tled  down  the  stairs. 

Tom  Gilstar  never  stirred.  He  stood  looking  at  his 
mother.  But  Gillis  went  to  the  window.  Instantly  he 
emitted  an  excited  whoop.  "  Say,  there's  something 
sure  doing  down  here !  "  he  cried.  "  Here,  Tom,  we 
want  to  get  into  this !  Looks  like  a  posse  had  brought 
in  those  fellows.  Two  of  'em  with  their  hands  tied  be 
hind  their  backs,  and  one  fellow  with  a  gun  in  his 
hand !  Guess  he  fired  in  the  air  to  attract  attention ! 
Come  on !  —  No !  The  inspector  is  pointing  up  here ! 
He's  telling  'em  to  come  up!  " 

"  They've  got  two  men !  "  groaned  Tom  Gilstar, 
with  an  agonizing  glance  at  his  mother.  He  felt  sure 
he  knew  who  the  two  men  would  be.  He  ran  to  his 
mother's  side  and  seized  her  by  the  hands.  "  Quick, 
mother !  "  he  said  to  her.  "  You  don't  want  to  be  here. 
Here's  a  door  on  this  side  — 

"  No,  no!  "  the  little  woman  resisted.     "  I'm  going 


KHAKI  171 

to  stay  here  till  I  find  out  what's  the  trouble,  Tom. 
What  did  that  man  mean  when  he  said  - 

Her  voice  was  drowned  by  the  tramping  of  feet  and 
babble  of  voices  on  the  stairs.  Tom  Gilstar  reached 
out  and  dragged  her  away  from  the  door  just  in  time. 
A  moment  afterward  the  big,  lithe  figure  of  Inspector 
Crarknell  came  plunging  through  the  door,  hauling 
a  man  with  a  bloody  gash  in  his  forehead  after  him. 
"Come  on,  Louis!"  he  cried,  exultingly.  "Your 
time  is  up!  You  don't  look  very  pretty,  Louis,  but 
you're  just  as  sweet  to  me." 

Then  another  man  was  propelled  through  the  door, 
by  a  hearty  shove  from  behind,  and  he  followed  the  first 
man  to  the  other  side  of  the  room.  He,  too,  had  his 
hands  lashed  behind  his  back,  and  a  tall,  red-haired  fel 
low,  bare-headed,  was  the  propeller.  And  then  — 
Sherry  Gilstar  stepped  into  the  room,  or,  rather,  was 
forced  into  the  room  by  the  dozen  or  more  eager  per 
sons  behind  him. 

"  Somebody  keep  that  crowd  out !  "  shouted  Crack- 
nell.  "  Get  back,  you !  all  of  you !  "  But  there  was 
nobody  to  enforce  the  order.  In  that  instant  of  mutual 
recognition,  the  only  man  in  the  crowd  who  thought 
of  the  two  evil-looking  prisoners  at  all,  was  the  inspec 
tor. 

The  little  old  woman  looked  into  the  face  of  Sherry 
Gilstar,  and  with  her  eyes  she  took  him  to  her  heart. 
She  did  not  faint.  True,  she  swayed  forward  and 
back  a  little,  and  she  might  have  crumpled  had  it  not 
been  for  the  strong  arms  of  her  bigger  son,  holding 
her  tightly.  Her  lips  said  something  inarticulate  at 
first ;  then  she  uttered  the  simple  words  with  which  she 
had  been  unconsciously  prepared  to  greet  him  at  any 
time  these  years.  She  said  : 

"  I  knew  you'd  come  back,  Sherry !  " 

She  did  not  see  —  she  could  not  see  —  the  circum- 


172  KHAKI 

stances  under  which  Sheridan  Gilstar  had  come  back. 
It  meant  nothing  to  her  at  that  moment.  Had  he  been 
one  of  the  manacled  men,  crouching  sullenly  in  the 
opposite  corner,  it  would  have  been  the  same  to  her 
at  that  moment.  He  was  back !  " 

"Mother!"  was  the  husky  reply  from  Sherry. 
"  You  —  here !  You  —  And  then  he  threw  his 
arms  around  his  mother's  neck,  much  as  he  had  done 
when  he  was  a  little  boy,  a  little  bruised  boy  come 
home  from  playing.  A  moment  afterwards  he  was 
whispering  something  in  her  ear,  and  whatever  it  was, 
a  smile  came  to  her  face,  and  she  hugged  him  to  her 
breast  again. 

"What  have  you  done,  Sherry?"  murmured  Tom 
Gilstar  to  his  brother,  as  he  linked  an  arm  under  the 
other's  arm.  "  This —  I  don't  see—  "  he  faltered. 

"  You'll  see,  Tom,"  replied  Sherry,  quickly.  "  I've 
come  back  to  make  good  with  you,  Tom.  And  for 
other  reasons." 

"Here,  Gilstar!"  shouted  Cracknell,  to  Tom. 
"  You  come  over  here  and  keep  your  eye  on  this  pair. 
This  is  the  limit !  1  never  expected  to  run  into  a  show 
like  this !  "  He  faced  Sherry  Gilstar  and  Hop  Murray 
and  looked  them  up  and  down  in  amazement. 

"You  two  —  what  the  devil!"  he  spluttered. 
"You're  part  of  the  gang,  you  two!  I  saw  you  on 
the  train.  Who  the  devil  are  you  anyway?  You 
were  in  Tredick  last  night,  weren't  you  ?  How  did 
you  —  what's  the  answer,  anyway  ?  " 

Sherry  glanced  quickly  at  Hop.  The  tall  fellow 
nodded  slightly  in  approval  of  something  they  both 
had  agreed  on. 

"  Yes,  we  were  part  of  the  crowd,  inspector,"  an 
swered  Sherry.  "  We  were  in  Tredick  last  night. 
We—" 


KHAKI  173 

A  hand  seized  one  of  the  hands  of  the  speaker,  and 
pressed  it  warningly,  as  if  to  say,  "  Be  careful,  Sherry! 
Nobody  knows.  I've  told  nobody." 

Quick  as  a  flash  Sherry  turned  to  his  brother.  "  Oh, 
don't  you  worry,  Tom,"  he  said,  with  a  smile.  "  Don't 
you  worry,  either,  mother.  Nothing  can  happen  to 
me,  now,  that  I  can't  stand. —  Inspector,  this  is 
my  big  brother  —  the  biggest,  bravest  man  that  ever 
lived.  He's  so  big  —  he's  got  so  much  real  nerve,  that 
nobody  could  understand  how  big  he  is,  without  being 
in  the  same  class  with  him.  I  never  gave  him  a  square 
deal  in  his  life.  I  picked  on  him  when  he  was  a  kid, 
and  I  gave  him  the  rottenest  deal  last  night  that  a  man 
could  get.  And  I'm  trying  to  make  good  with  him 
now.  Don't  you  see  that,  inspector  ?  " 

Cracknell  was  looking  from  one  to  the  other,  trying 
to  comprehend  the  queer  situation.  He  hadn't  seen 
the  impetuous  greeting  of  Sherry  with  his  mother, 
and  this  was  the  first  intimation  he  got  that  the  two 
men  were  brothers.  Then  the  truth  dawned  on  the  de 
tective.  "  He  turned  you  loose  in  the  postoffice?  "  he 
challenged. 

"  Yes."  Sherry  breathed  the  affirmation  painfully. 
He  glanced  appealingly  at  his  mother,  fearing  to  see 
her  collapse  as  he  made  the  confession.  She  was  just 
looking  at  her  son,  and  smiling.  She  comprehended 
nothing  but  that  he  had  come  back.  The  rest  was 
vague  and  meaningless  to  her. 

"  And  you  came  back  to  save  him  from  getting  in 
bad  -  "  began  the  inspector.  He  nodded  quickly.  "  I 
get  you. —  But  these  fellows  here  ?  How  did  you  hap 
pen  — 

"  We  had  a  fight,"  interrupted  Sherry.  "  Believe 
me,  inspector,  Hop  and  I  were  sick  of  it  all.  We 
wanted  to  quit  this  thing  —  we  never  got  deep  into  it 


174  KHAKI 

—  and  we  went  back  to  tell  those  fellows  so.  They 
wouldn't  have  it  thai  way.  We  want  to  go  back  to 
the  army.  We've  both  served  in  the  army,  inspector. 
We  want  to  go  straight.  We  could  have  got  away, 
easy  enough.  But  we  want  to  be  clean  and  decent 
again.  And  we  want  to  get  the  khaki  on  again  and 
show  that  we're  white  men,  and  Americans.  We  had 
a  fight  with  Louis  about  that.  And  we  —  brought  'em 
along  with  us.  That's  all.  I  can't  explain  it  to  you 
any  more  than  that." 

"  I'd  like  to  cut  your  yellow  throat,  you  cur!  "  yelped 
the  blacksmith  from  the  corner. 

"  Shut  up !  "  roared  the  inspector.  Then  he  shook 
his  head,  perplexed.  "  I'm  blessed  if  I  know  what  to 
do  in  a  case  like  this,"  he  said.  "  You  admit  — 

"  Wait  a  minute !  "  shouted  Sergeant  Gillis,  who  had 
been  maintaining  an  uneasy  silence  all  this  time.  "  I 
know  this  man,  inspector !  I  mean  Tom's  brother ! 
Look  here,  Sherry  Gilstar,  you  never  saw  me  before 
in  your  life,  did  you  ?  " 

Sherry  shook  his  head  at  the  recruiting  officer. 

"  No;  I  know  you  wouldn't  know  me.  But  I  re 
member  you  —  the  day  you  and  this  tall  chap  came 
over  to  our  station  in  the  Islands  a  few  days  after  you 
got  mentioned  for  pulling  some  life-saving  stunt.  I'd 
know  you  anywhere.  Attention  !  " 

Like  an  automaton,  Sherry  Gilstar  came  to  rigid 
attention,  at  the  command.  So  did  Hop  Murray. 

Gillis  laughed  outright.  "  Old  doughboys,  all 
right !  "  he  shouted.  "  You  want  to  come  back,  do 
you?" 

"  Do  you  think  we  can  ?  "  said  both  Sherry  and  Hop, 
eagerly.  "If  we  can  get  out  of  this  scrape,  do  you 
think  - 

"  Just  a  minute,"  interrupted  the  sergeant.     "  What 


KHAKI  175 

are  your  reasons  for  wanting  to  get  back  in  the  uni 
form?  It  all  depends  on  that.  The  army's  keen  on 
getting  men  with  clean  records  —  you  know  that." 

"  I  know  what  you  mean,  sergeant,"  responded 
Sherry.  "  You  think  maybe  we  want  to  jump  to  the 
army  to  save  ourselves  from  being  sent  up.  We  might 
have  felt  that  way  once,  sergeant  —  but  not  now.  We 
want  to  fight  for  the  old  U.  S.  A.  That's  the  truth, 
sergeant. —  Mother,  I'm  sorry  for  all  the  trouble  and 
worry  you've  had  over  me. —  If  I  can  get  the  chance, 
you'd  want  me  to  enlist,  wouldn't  you  ?  —  Perhaps  the 
country  don't  need  us  any  more,  sergeant;  but  God 
knows  we  both  need  the  country ;  we  need  to  do  our  bit. 
We've  been  a  couple  of  poor  fools;  we  haven't  been 
much  worse  than  that,  honest  we  haven't ;  and  now 
we  want  to  quit  being  fools  and  be  men."  The  speak 
er's  lips  trembled,  as  he  added,  with  downcast  eyes, 
after  a  moment,  "  And  I  suppose  it's  too  late,  now." 

"  Don't  you  believe  it  —  not  so  far  as  I'm  con 
cerned,"  cried  Gillis.  "  I  don't  know  what  the  inspec 
tor  is  going  to  say  or  do,  but  I'll  do  my  best  for  you, 
boys. —  Mr.  Cracknell,  I  believe  these  fellows  are  all 
right  inside  —  look  at  'em,  inspector!  they  don't  look 
the  part,  do  they.  Can't  you  put  in  a  word  for  them  ? 
You  can  do  a  whole  lot,  if  you  want  to.  They've 
turned  up  of  their  own  accord  and  brought  you  a 
couple  of  the  men  you  wanted.  Wouldn't  you  take  a 
chance  on  them?  " 

Cracknell  looked  at  the  young  fellows  steadily.  "  If 
you  mean,  turn  'em  loose,  it  can't  be  done!  "  he  said, 
crisply.  "  You  know  that  as  well  as  I  do,  sergeant. 
It  would  mean  my  job  —  and  it  wouldn't  do  them 
any  good,  either.  Btit  there's  another  way.  Yes,  I'll 
do  what  I  can.  As  far  as  I  know,  they're  not  wanted 
anywhere.  I  can  hold  them  as  witnesses  for  the  gov- 


176  KHAKI 

ernment.  I  think  they'll  get  suspended  sentences,  any 
way.  Maybe  they'll  go  on  probation.  But  I've  got 
to  hold  them." 

The  import  of  the  cautious  words  was  not  lost  on 
Gillis.  He  knew  that  Cracknell  was  speaking  guard 
edly,  like  a  wise  officer ;  but  that  he  was  inclined  in  the 
young  fellows'  favor. 

"I'll  stand  by  you,  boys!"  said  Gillis,  joyously. 
"  I'll  do  what  I  can,  you  bet !  " 

"  Thank  you,  sergeant ! "  said  Sherry  Gilstar, 
faintly,  swaying  on  his  feet  unsteadily.  "  I  .  .  ." 
He  put  his  right  hand  to  his  left  shoulder.  "  I  feel 
—  a  little  queer,  sergeant.  I  —  knew  you  wouldn't 
turn  us  down.  The  old  flag  —  tip  there  —  "  he  saluted 
with  an  effort  —  I  haven't  been  loyal  to  it  —  you  can't 
be  loyal  to  it,  and  be  anything  but  straight  and  clean  — 
but  I  want  to  fight  for  it  —  again  —  and  I  guess  it 
will  forgive  a  poor  devil  —  his  trespasses  —  as  the 
old  prayer  said  - 

Then,  crumpling  like  a  pricked  toy  balloon,  Sherry 
Gilstar's  body  sank  to  the  floor.  His  eyes  closed,  but 
he  went  unconscious  with  a  smile  of  hope  on  his  lips. 

"  Great  Scott ! "  cried  Gillis,  leaning  over  him. 
"  He's  fainted !  What's  this !  -  -  There's  a  burned  hole 
in  his  coat !-- There's  blood  on  his  wrist  and  hand." 
He  began  unbuttoning  the  coat.  He  threw  it  back 
from  the  left  shoulder. 

"  Good  God !  "  cried  the  sergeant,  straightening  up 
and  looking  at  Cracknell.  "  He's  got  a  bullet  hole  in 
him!  His  shoulder  is  smeared  with  blood!  He 
walked  here  —  with  that  —  and  we've  been  keeping 
him  standing  here  all  the  time.  Talk  about  nerve !  It 
must  have  been  torturing  him  every  second,  and  he 
never  even  showed  it  on  his  face. —  One  of  those  devils 
must  have  shot  him  in  that  fight  they  had!  " 


KHAKI  177 

"  I  wish  I'd  killed  the  squealer!  "  growled  the  black 
smith  from  his  corner.     "  Sure,  I  shot  him!  " 

"  Plucky  little  devil !  "  murmured  Sergeant  Gillis. 
"  The  kind  we  want,  to  lick  the  Hun !  —  Here,  some 
body  look  after  his  mother!     She's   fainted,  too!- 
Lend  us  a  hand,  Tom !  —  You  brothers  are  a  couple  of 
aces !     You're  going  to  France  together !  " 


XV 

SAM  GREENBERG  couldn't  help  being  flattered,  of 
course,  when  Wells  Hardy  and  H.  H.  Smith,  two  of 
Tredick's  old-established  merchants,  came  over  to  the 
Fifth  Avenue  Store  that  morning,  and  took  him  into 
confidential  executive  session.  The  young  fellow, 
flushed  with  success  as  he  was,  had  been  secretly  yearn 
ing  for  another  recognition,  as  a  tradesman,  besides 
that  of  the  public.  Every  tradesman  feels  that  way. 
He  not  only  wants  to  have  a  good  trade,  and  make 
money ;  he  wants  his  fellow  merchants  to  acknowledge 
that  he  has  a  good  trade,  and  is  making  money.  In 
short,  he  wants  recognition  in  the  trade. 

So,  when  for  the  first  time,  the  two  older  Tredick 
merchants  stepped  into  the  Fifth  Avenue  Store,  Sam 
Greenberg's  heart  fluttered  with  elation.  He  had  his 
full  share  of  vanity,  and  it  was  touched.  His  face 
tried  not  to  betray  his  satisfaction,  but  he  reached  for 
the  outstretched  hands  with  real  warmth. 

H.  H.  Smith  (senior  of  the  firm  of  H.  H.  Smith  & 
Son,  grocers)  looked  around  cautiously,  after  the 
greeting,  and  slyly  indicated  that  the  back  of  the  store 
would  be  better  for  their  purposes  than  the  front. 
Sam  understood.  He  led  them  to  the  rear,  got  chairs, 
and  produced  a  box  of  good  cigars.  And  then,  a  mo 
ment  afterward,  the  young  fellow  flushed  with  joy  as 
Mr.  Smith  began,  after  a  few  reflective  bites  at  the  end 
of  his  cigar: 

"  Greenberg,  we  —  I  mean  most  of  us  merchants  - 
have  decided  that  you've  come  to  stay.     I  mean,  we 
figure  that  you're  a  good  business  man,  and  a  live  one, 
and  we  —  er  —  have  always  tried  to  make  friends  with 

178 


KHAKI  179 

a  newcomer,  rather  than  antagonize  him.  You've  got 
an  up-to-date  store  here,  and  we've  got  to  face  real, 
honest  competition  these  days,  rather  than  hide  our 
heads  in  the  sand,  as  you  might  say." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Smith,"  said  Sam  Greenberg,  ap 
preciatively.  "  I  don't  want  any  bad  blood,  that's  cer 
tain.  I  want  to  be  friends  with  all  the  merchants. 
We  all  get  our  living  the  same  way,  and  a  quarrel  isn't 
good  for  anybody." 

"You're  dead  right!"  put  in  Hardy.  But  Mr. 
Smith,  an  astute  old  fellow  with  white,  patriarchal 
head,  gave  him  a  meaning  glance  which  quelled  the 
butcher. 

"  Yes,  you're  right,"  went  on  the  grocer.  "  In  fact, 
that's  what  we're  over  here  for.  You  see,  Greenberg, 
our  lines  cross,  to  some  extent.  Now,  my  son  and  I 
are  in  the  grocery  line,  mostly,  yet  we  keep  notions 
and  some  wearing  apparel,  to  oblige  our  old  customers 
-  we  always  have,  and  we're  going  to  continue.  We 
haven't  any  Board  of  Trade  here  in  Tredick,  Green 
berg —  I  don't  know  as  we  need  one.  I  think  myself 
it's  a  lot  better  to  get  together  in  a  social  way  and  talk 
over  things  amicably,  and  not  rouse  too  much  public 
notice,  either.  Now,  the  point  is  this :  we  merchants 
have  been  talking  you  over,  and  we  want  your  coop 
eration  for  the  common  good.  All  the  merchants  are 
agreed  that  I  should  see  you  about  it  - 

"  Even  Deacon  Bradshaw  ?  "  queried  Sam,  with  a 
faint  smile. 

The  cautious  Mr.  Smith  did  not  by  word  or  facial 
expression  evince  the  slightest  show  of  knowledge 
that  there  might  have  been  any  contention  between 
Mr.  Greenberg  and  Mr.  Bradshaw.  He  simply  nodded 
gravely,  and  said,  "  Deacon  Bradshaw  is  at  one  with 
us." 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  of  that,"  breathed  Sam,  recalling 


i8o  KHAKI 

what  Prudence  Perkins  had  said  to  him,  the  last  time 
he  saw  her.  "  I  want  to  be  on  good  terms  with  all  of 
you.  There's  room  for  both  me  and  the  deacon." 

"Exactly, —  now  then,  Mr.  Greenberg,  as  I  said, 
our  lines  cross.  You  see,  the  fact  is,  Mr.  Hardy  and  I 
are  a  committee  of  two,  just  to  see  whether  we  couldn't 
get  together  this  afternoon  —  maybe  over  here  — 
you've  got  more  room  in  the  back  of  this  store  than 
any  of  the  rest  of  us  —  and  sort  of  talk  things  over  so 
there  won't  be  any  misunderstanding.  I  think  you  see 
what  I  mean." 

"  Why,  sure !  "  said  Sam  earnestly.     "  I'd  like  to 
have  you.     What  time  ?  " 
"  Would  three  o'clock  do?  " 

"  A  good  time,  for  me.     How  many  will  come  ?  " 
"  Why,  not  everybody,  of  course.     About  five  of  us. 
The  rest   will   be   satisfied.     There'll    be   myself   and 
Wells,  and  Fred  Payne,  Frank  Stetson,  and  the  deacon. 
Would  that  be  all  right?" 

"  The  deacon  !  "  said  Sam,  softly.  "  Oh,  sure !  " 
"Very  well  —  we'll  be  here  at  three." 
"  Well,"  said  Sam  to  himself,  when  the  two  men 
were  gone,  "  That  settles  it!  They  think  I've  come  to 
stay,  do  they?  They  can  register  a  smile  I've  come  to 
stay."  The  young  fellow  shoved  his  hands  deep  in  his 
pockets,  and  walked  around  between  the  counters  in 
great  spirits.  "  I  wonder  what  the  dickens  they  want 
to  talk  about?  "  he  murmured.  "I  guess  it  don't  re 
quire  any  mind-reading  to  guess.  They're  afraid  I'm 
going  to  cut  prices  on  'em.  They've  tumbled  to  the 
fact  that  they  buy  like  a  lot  of  dummies,  and  they're 
getting  scared !  —  and  the  deacon  is  coming !  Gee 
whizz !  He  may  forget  he  wants  to  be  friends  and 
soak  me  on  the  bean  with  his  cane !  —  Anyway,  I'll 
show  'em  a  few  things  about  entertaining." 

And  with  that  pride  in  doing  such  a  thing  properly, 


KHAKI  181 

which  was  characteristic  of  the  modern  city  Jewish 
man,  Sam  Greenberg  busied  himself  with  putting  that 
part  of  the  store  which  was  partitioned  off  from  the 
front,  and  was  cluttered  with  opened  boxes,  to  rights. 
He  made  two  tables  into  one,  covered  them  with  green 
denim,  opened  his  best  box  of  cigars,  long  reserved  for 
a  state  occasion,  and  then,  after  some  cogitation  as  to 
whether  his  guests  ever  took  a  "  nip,"  decided  on  a  safe 
course,  and  bought  some  unfermented  grape-juice  at 
the  drug-store.  He  borrowed  some  glasses  at  the 
hotel,  and  ordered  sandwiches  and  cakes  prepared 
and  sent  over. 

"  It  looks  like  a  Y.  M.  C.  A.  festival,"  was  Sam's 
own  comment,  grinning,  "  but  it's  probably  all  these 
^uys  could  stand  without  acting  scandalous." 

So,  it  was  a  highly  satisfied  host  who  met  the  five 
Tredick  tradesmen  at  the  door,  a  little  after  three 
o'clock.  All  shook  hands  with  Sam,  including  Deacon 
Bradshaw,  who  was  obviously  a  chastened  spirit. 
The  deacon,  once  inside  the  store,  looked  around 
swiftly.  "Humph!"  he  permitted  himself  to  say. 
Nothing  more.  Just  "  Humph !  "  Whether  the  dea 
con  intended  it  to  be  an  agreeable  humph  or  a  disagree 
able  humph,  was  not  apparent. 

The  eyes  of  the  visitors  opened  wide  when  they  got 
behind  the  partition.  Sam  was  standing,  watching  his 
guests  as  they  sat  down,  and  wondering  whether  the 
deacon,  who  didn't  smoke,  would  be  offended  by  the 
cigars.  Evidently  the  deacon  was  not.  He  reached 
over  absently,  took  three  of  the  expensive  weeds,  and 
slid  them  into  his  pocket. 

The  sandwiches  disappeared  as  though  not  a  man 
of  the  crowd  had  eaten  dinner.  Then  Mr.  H.  H. 
Smith,  after  a  long  and  luxurious  draft  of  the  grape- 
juice,  sat  back  and  stuck  his  thumbs  in  his  upper  waist- 
coast  pockets  and  sighed.  Then  he  began : 


1 82  KHAKI 

"  Now,  Mr.  Greenberg,  you  shouldn't  have  put  your 
self  out  to  do  this  for  us.  But  as  long  as  you  did, 
we  appreciate  it.  Now,  I  guess  we  can  get  down  to 
brass  tacks. —  You  know,  Greenberg,  this  war  is  a  both 
ersome  thing  for  us  merchants.  We  don't  know 
what's  going  to  happen  from  day  to  day.  Now,  for 
instance,  look  what  took  place  in  quiet  old  Tredick  last 
night,  at  the  postoffice  — " 

"Wasn't  that  a  corker?"  interrupted  Sam,  enthusi 
astically.  "  Regular  fellers,  those  Gilstar  boys  are,  I 
tell  you !  I  always  thought  Tom  was  a  kind  of  a  sissy 
—  not  a  sissy,  exactly,  but  a  kind  of  a  soft  chap  — 
and  now  it's  hard  to  say  which  is  the  nerviest  one  of 
the  two  — 

"  Yes,  yes,"  snapped  Mr.  Smith,  hastily,  with  a 
meaning  wink  at  Sam,  as  the  deacon  suddenly  showed 
signs  of  explosion. 

"  I  didn't  come  here  to  hear  that  business  all  gone 
over  again,"  snarled  the  deacon.  "  I've  heard  nothing 
else  all  day  so  far.  The  fools  in  this  village  haven't 
got  anything  better  to  talk  about.  There  hasn't  been 
a  stroke  of  honest  work  done  since  seven  o'clock  this 
morning.  There's  been  a  trail  of  people  going  back 
and  forth  to  that  Gilstar  house,  as  if  he  was  a  second 
George  Washington.  Yesterday  everybody'd  have 
voted  to  put  him  behind  the  bars,  and  now  - 

"  But  you  have  to  admit  that  the  boy  showed  he  had 
good  stuff  in  him,  deacon,"  ventured  Fred  Payne, 
rashly.  "  You  know  what  the  good  book  says,  deacon. 
There's  more  joy  over  the  —  one  sheep, —  or  lamb,  I 
forget  which  —  in  heaven,  I  think  the  words  are,  than 
over  the  —  let's  see  —  I  think  it  says  if  ninety-nine 
men  —  I  mean  sheep  — 

"  You  better  read  the  Scriptures  and  go  to  church 
oftener  if  you're  going  to  lecture  me  about  it,"  said 
the  deacon,  savagely.  "  I  tell  you  — 


KHAKI  183 

"  Stop  it !  "  said  H.  H.  Smith.  "  I  won't  stay  here 
another  minute  if  you're  going  to  start  righting  about 
that.  Not  another  word  about  the  Gilstars."  He 
tapped  on  the  table,  and  looked  around  sternly. 
"  Still,"  he  went  on.  "  I  must  say  that  I'd  be  satis 
fied  to  call  either  one  of  them  boys  of  mine." 

And  then,  before  the  deacon  could  break  out  anew, 
Mr.  Smith  proceeded,  suavely : 

"  Mr.  Greenburg,  we  want  to  talk  prices,  that's  what. 
Now,  sir,  you  know  that  prices  are  on  the  jump.  Lord 
knows  where  we'll  land  before  we  get  through.  Look 
at  your  quotations.  You  need  new  ones  every  day. 
Before  your  order  gets  in,  there's  a  new  price.  Now, 
Mr.  Greenberg,  you  must  have  considered  this  ques 
tion  ;  what  position  are  you  going  to  take  on  retail 
price  on  goods  you  bought,  well,  a  good  deal  cheaper 
than  you  can  buy  to-day  ?  Er  - 

"  I  get  you,"  said  Sam  quickly.  "  You  mean,  am  I 
going  to  take  an  extra  profit,  or  give  my  customer 
the  benefit." 

This  was  putting  it  with  cruel  directness  that  made 
the  party  sit  up  in  their  chairs.  But  they  all  nodded 
assent  to  the  interpretation. 

'  The  —  er  —  fact  is,  Greenberg,"  went  on  Mr. 
Smith,  "you're  selling - 

"  I  know,"  nodded  Sam.  "  Cheaper  than  I  could 
buy  the  same  goods  for  this  minute.  I  know  it."  He 
took  out  a  pencil  and  began  to  sharpen  it,  needlessly, 
but  as  an  adjunct  to  thought.  "  I  tell  you,  gentle 
men,"  he  said,  after  a  pause,  "  I  don't  want  to  start  any 
price-cutting  game.  It  doesn't  pay  anybody.  It 
doesn't  even  pay  the  public,  because  in  the  end  we've 
got  to  make  a  profit,  and  it's  got  to  come  from  them. 
I  didn't  mean  to  cut  prices.  I  reserve  the  right  to  sell 
a  few  things  at  my  own  prices,  as  an  advertisement  — 

"  Oh,  of  course.     We  all  do  that,"  assented  Payne. 


1 84  KHAKI 

"  But  a  cut-throat  game  —  no.  Nothing  to  it.  But 
I  really  think,  gentlemen,  that  we  ought  to  sell  out  our 
stock  on  the  profit  basis  we  figured  when  we  bought  it. 
I  think  it's  good  business.  We  won't  lose  in  the  end 
by- 

"  Fiddlesticks !  "  said  Mr.  Smith,  warmly.  "  Don't 
be  foolish,  Greenberg.  What  are  we  in  business  for? 
It's  money,  isn't  it?  " 

"  Why,  yes,"  replied  Sam,  "  and  the  more  the  better, 
for  me.  You  bet  your  life.  But  I'm  in  business  for 
something  else,  too.  I'm  in  business  to  stay  in  busi 
ness.  I  guess  you  are  too,  aren't  you  ?  " 

"  I  know  what  you  mean,"  was  the  response  from 
Smith.  "  You  mean  that  you  think  you  can  build  up 
a  bigger  following  by  not  taking  that  extra  profit  that's 
being  handed  to  you  by  circumstances.  Now,  that's 
where  you're  wrong,  sir.  That's  where  you  don't  un 
derstand  the  people  here  in  Tredick.  They  don't  ap 
preciate  such  things.  What  do  they  know  about  prices, 
anyway?  How  do  they  know  what  we  pay  for  our 
goods?  The  fact  is,"  and  here  Mr.  Smith  lowered 
his  voice  and  leaned  over  and  tapped  Sam  on  the  knee 
confidentially,  "  the  fact  is,  the  public  don't  know 
much,  anyway.  We  business  men  can  be  relied  on  - 
well,  what  are  you  smiling  at?  It's  so,  isn't  it?  " 

"  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Smith,"  replied  Sam,  "  but  I  was 
just  thinking  about  that.  Of  course,  you  know  the 
people  here  better  than  I  do,  but  so  far  as  I  know,  the 
quickest  way  for  a  business  man  to  go  broke  is  to  start 
by  saying  that  the  public  don't  know  anything.  Gee, 
Mr.  Smith,  I'll  admit  that  at  times  they  seem  to  be 
slow  getting  on  to  a  thing,  but  by  George,  when  they 
do  jump  a  man  or  a  business  house,  they  jump  'em 
hard." 

"  Then,"  said  Mr.  Smith,  severely,  "  I  understand 
that  you  intend  to  sell  each  lot  on  the  basis  of  the  •.><•.( 


KHAKI  185 

profit  on  that  lot.  That's  just  the  same  as  cutting 
prices  on  us,  Greenberg,  and  you  know  it.  We  simply 
can't  afford  - 

"  Wait  a  minute !  I  didn't  say  what  I  was  going 
to  do.  I  said  what  I  thought  was  the  wise  thing  to  do. 
I'm  open  to  argument  on  it,"  interrupted  Sam.  He 
sharpened  his  pencil  again.  "  I  tell  you  what,"  he  said, 
suddenly,  looking  at  each  face  in  turn,  "  there's  some 
thing  I've  been  thinking  of  lately.  To  put  it  flat,  don't 
you  think  we'd  better  be  satisfied  with  a  fair  margin  of 
profit  in  a  time  like  this  ?  We  know  it's  getting  pretty 
hard  for  some  folks  to  buy  anything  as  it  is.  How 
much  more  does  it  cost  you  to  do  business  than  a  year 
ago,  Mr.  Smith?  Not  much  more,  does  it?  Haven't 
you  as  a  matter  of  fact  lopped  off  a  good  deal  of  over 
head  because  people  don't  demand  the  special  services 
they  used  to  ?  And  we've  always  got  the  public  beaten 
to  it.  If  prices  go  up  on  us,  we  can  always  stick  our 
prices  up  —  pass  the  buck,  as  we  say.  Then  why  not 
give  'em  the  benefit  of  the  doubt,  and  if  we  picked  up 
a  job  of  Anderson  ginghams  at  seventeen  and  a  half, 
and  they've  gone  to  twenty-two  —  why,  wasn't  there 
always  a  sort  of  understanding  between  us  and  our  cus 
tomers  that  we'd  take  a  fair  profit  and  be  satisfied?  " 

The  fact  was,  though,  that  Sam  Greenberg  was 
weakening  even  as  he  argued.  He  did  covet,  in  his 
heart,  that  extra  profit  —  profiteering,  it  was  already 
being  called.  He  had  a  deep  sympathy  with  the  under 
dog  —  it  was  in  his  blood  —  but  as  a  human  being,  he 
had  a  deep  sentiment  for  himself,  too,  and  he  wanted 
to  "  clean  up  "  in  his  first  year  of  business.  It  meant 
much  to  him.  He  wanted  to  be  able  to  point  at  the 
balance  sheet  and  say  to  Prudence  Perkins,  "  Well, 
haven't  I  made  good,  Miss  Perkins?" 

So  when  Mr.  Smith  adroitly  pointed  out  that  the 
merchants  had  better  be  forehanded,  and  lay  by  a  little 


1 86  KHAKI 

surplus  that  they  could  later,  if  need  be,  pass  to  the 
needy  public,  Sam  Greenberg  found  himself  clutching 
at  the  notion.  He  knew  it  was  a  subterfuge  —  but  it 
sounded  well  on  the  tongue. 

11  You  mean,  take  what  we  can  get  now,  while  the 
taking  is  good?  "  he  said,  with  a  faint  smile,  "  so  that 
we'll  be  able  to  carry  some  of  these  poor  devils  on  the 
books,  later  on?  " 

Mr.  Smith  nodded;  and  seeing  him  nod,  the  rest  of 
the  merchants  nodded.  Deacon  Bradshaw  sat  sullenly, 
thinking  perhaps  of  far  other  things  than  trade,  and 
looking  coldly  about  him  from  time  to  time. 

"  Well,  gentlemen,"  Sam  was  saying,  with  a  reluc 
tance  that  he  himself  did  not  quite  understand,  "  I  see 
the  vote  was  five  to  one,  from  the  start.  I  don't  mind 
taking  all  I  can  get,  provided  it  doesn't  hurt  later. 
What's  your  idea?  I  don't  think  a  written  state 
ment - 

"Oh,  my  goodness,  no!"  said  the  astute  Smith. 
"  Nothing  like  that.  A  gentleman's  agreement,  that's 
all.  Nothing  in  writing  —  not  from  me." 

One  of  the  girl  clerks  at  that  moment  appeared  at 
the  end  of  the  partition  and  beckoned  to  Sam  Green- 
berg.  He  went  aside,  and  after  hearing  the  message, 
replied,  "  Tell  him  I'll  be  out  pretty  soon.  I'm  busy 
now." 

For  reply,  a  young  fellow  busily  inserted  himself  be 
tween  the  girl  clerk  and  the  partition.  "  I  can't  wait, 
Mr.  Greenberg,"  he  announced.  "I'm  a  reporter  for 
the  Springhaven  Gazette.  I  hope  you'll  pardon  me  for 
rushing  in  this  way,  but  I  think  you'll  be  interested  in 
a  little  bit  of  news  I've  got. —  I've  just  come  from  the 
Gilstar  house  — 

"  I  know  nothing  about  the  postoffice  affair,"  said 
Sam,  defensively. 

"  Oh,  it  isn't  that.     We've  got  another  man  cover- 


KHAKI  187 

ing  that  story.  Bully  story,  too !  I  wish  they'd  given 
it  to  me.  I'm  supposed  to  do  a  sob-story,  and  I  don't 
care  for  them.  You're  a  friend  of  Miss  Prudence 
Perkins,  formerly  of  this  town,  aren't  you?" 

"Miss  Perkins!"  repeated  Sam.  "What  —  what 
about  her  ? ' 

"  The  Cunard  Liner  Hyrcania  has  been  torpedoed 
in  the  Irish  Sea,  and  the  cable  dispatch  says  that  a 
whole  party  of  American  Red  Cross  nurses  have  gone 
down  with  the  ship.  The  Hyrcania  was  in  the  Red 
Cross  service,  but  of  course  that  only  made  it  sportier 
for  the  German  butchers.  Miss  Perkins  was  on  the 
passenger  list.  We  got  the  name  as  Parkins,  but 
there's  no  doubt  it's  Miss  Perkins.  Mr.  Greenberg,  do 
you  know  i  f  - 

Sam  Greenberg  had  turned  as  white  as  the  folded 
sheets  of  copy  paper  which  the  reporter  pulled  from  his 
coat  pocket.  His  right  hand  sought  the  lapel  of  the 
reporter's  coat,  and  clenched  it.  "  My  God !  "  he  whis 
pered,  "  you  —  it  must  be  wrong!  It  can't  be  —  Miss 
Perkins.  The  name  —  are  you  sure?  Was  it  Tred- 
ick  ?  "  Unconsciously,  he  was  wrenching  the  shoulder 
of  the  reporter  back  and  forth  as  he  spoke. 

"For  the  love  of  Mike,  don't  do  that!"  snapped 
the  visitor.  "  You'll  tear  my  clothes  off.  I  know  only 
what  the  city  editor  told  me.  I'm  sore  enough  on  this 
job  of  breaking  bad  news  to  people.  Now,  tell  me 
first,  please,  if  you  know  where  I  can  get  a  picture  of 
her.  A  tintype  or  a  kodak  picture  will  do,  but  a  reg 
ular  picture  would  be  better.  They  told  me  up  at  her 
home  that  she  never  had  one  taken." 

Sam  Greenberg  heard  nothing  of  all  this.  He  was 
looking  out  straight  over  the  shoulder  of  the  reporter, 
through  the  store,  and  out  across  the  street  at  the 
building  opposite.  And  he  saw  nothing  of  all  that 
intervened.  He  saw  only  the  gaunt  figure  of  Prudence 


1 88  KHAKI 

Perkins,  as  he  saw  her  last ;  and  he  saw  her  face  lighted 
by  that  strange  new  smile  that  had  sweetness  and  pur 
pose  and  faith  and  idealism  in  it.  And  she  was  say 
ing,  again : 

"  I  don't  know  when  I  shall  be  back. —  It  may  be 
I'll  never  come  back." 

"  Wait  for  me  outside,"  Sam  whispered,  hoarsely. 
"  I'll  be  with  you  in  a  few  minutes.  Don't  go  away, 
please.  Just  let  me  finish  here."  The  reporter  nodded 
and  withdrew.  Sam  turned  to  face  five  standing  men, 
who  had  heard  every  word  of  the  announcement,  and 
were  staring  blankly  at  the  spot  where  the  reporter  had 
disappeared. 

"  It  is  true?  It  can't  be  true?  Not  Miss  Perkins! 
She  hasn't  been  gone  long  enough.  She  wouldn't  go 
over  there—  They  were  all  beginning  to  use  their 
wits  and  voices  at  the  same  time. 

"  Yes,  it's  true.  Why  not?"  Greenberg  said,  chok 
ingly.  He  glanced  helplessly  from  one  man  to  an 
other.  His  fingers  were  clenching  and  unclenching 
as  he  tried  to  restrain  himself;  and  under  his  eyes  two 
black  patches  appeared,  which  set  off  the  ghastly  pal 
lor  of  his  cheeks.  He  swung  his  right  arm  around 
in  an  inclusive  semi-circle  and  went  on  falteringly: 

"This  is  it!  Men,  do  you  see?  Do  you  see  that 
while  we've  been  sitting  here  trying  to  figure  out  new 
ways  of  skinning  the  public,  Miss  Perkins  has  —  died 
for  us?  That's  what  it  is —  for  us —  for  everybody 
-she's  given  everything!  My  God,  men,  don't  you 
see  that  ?  She  said  when  she  went  away  from  here  — 
you  heard  her  say  at  the  meeting  that  day  —  that  she 
could  give  herself  —  if  she  hadn't  any  son  to  give. 
And  we  —  good  God !  —  what  have  we  given  ?  Not 
a  thing.  We  haven't  had  any  country.  We  haven't 
had  anything  we  cared  enough  about  to  give  anything. 


KHAKI  189 

And  she's  gone !     The  biggest  woman  that  ever  lived ! 
She's  gone." 

The  young  fellow  threw  himself  into  a  chair  and 
putting  his  head  on  his  arms,  which  sprawled  out  be 
fore  him  on  the  table,  shook  with  sobs. 

"  Oh,  don't  do  that !  "  Fred  Payne  was  saying  to 
Sam,  patting  him  on  the  shoulder,  and  trying  to  choke 
back  the  tears  that  welled  into  his  own  eyes.  "  Don't 
do  that,  Greenberg.  It  may  not  be  —  you  can't 
trust  - 

Sam  looked  up,  showing  a  haggard  face.  '  You 
don't  know  what  it  means  to  me,"  he  said,  not  seeming 
to  address  the  five  men,  as  speaking  to  himself.  "  It 
was  coming  to  me  —  because  I  didn't  —  I  didn't  care 
for  anybody  but  myself.  I  forgot  I  was  an  American. 
When  they  talked  about  patriotism  to  me,  I  gave  them 
the  laugh.  I  said  it  was  the  dollars  people  were  think 
ing  about.  I  said  nobody  gave  anything  for  nothing. 
I  said  that.  I  forgot  —  I  was  an  American.  Men,  I 
was  born  in  New  York.  But  my  father  and  mother 
came  from  Kiev.  They  came  here  —  they  came  here, 
with  something  behind  them  —  they  didn't  talk  about. 
That  something  —  it  used  to  sit  at  the  table  with  us  — 
I  was  a  little  chap,  but  I  felt  it  too  —  it  was  what  they 
had  come  away  from  in  Russia.  Sometimes  my  fa 
ther  would  be  almost  happy  —  and  mother  would 
laugh  too  —  and  then  a  queer  look  would  come  on 
father's  face  —  and  he'd  wince  as  if  somebody  had 
hit  him  in  the  face  with  a  whip  —  and  he'd  pull  my 
mother  up  to  him  and  say,  '  Thank  God  we're  here  in 
America.'  And  I've  been  forgetting  all  that.  Be 
cause  I  was  born  in  New  York  —  and  all  us  kids  didn't 
know  what  it  meant  to  be  free  —  because  we  didn't 
know  anything  else. —  That's  what  she  was  trying  to 
tell  me.  I  didn't  understand.  But  she's  made  me 


190  KHAKI 

understand.  She  wanted  to  make  everybody  under 
stand. —  The  best  friend  I  ever  had  —  she  never  asked 
me  who  I  was,  or  where  I  came  from  —  she  thought  I 
was  on  the  level  —  and  she  said,  '  I'll  give  you  a 
chance  to  go  into  business  right  — '  ' 

"  I  knew  it !  I  knew  she  set  you  up  in  business 
here !  "  flashed  out  Deacon  Bradshavv.  But,  strangely 
enough,  he  didn't  seem  to  be  angry  about  it,  now.  lie 
merely  couldn't  keep  back  the  revelation  as  it  came  to 
him. 

'  Yes,  she  did  !  What  difference  does  it  make  now  ? 
I  don't  care  who  knows  it !  I  want  everybody  to  know 
it.  I  want  to  tell  everybody  what  she  did  for  me. 
Nobody  knew  anything  about  her.  She  had  the  big 
gest  heart  —  she  cared  more  for  all  of  you  —  than  you 
knew  anything  about.  You  wouldn't  believe  her  when 
she  said  —  what  she  said  —  and  she  had  to  —  my  God, 
I  can't  stand  it !  " 

The  young  fellow  jumped  up,  kicked  the  chair  out 
behind  him  and  cried  : 

"  I  don't  know  what  you're  going  to  do.  But  I 
know  what  I'm  going  to  do !  This  stuff  is  all  off, 
men.  No  agreements  —  nothing  from  me.  So  far 
as  I'm  concerned  the  party  is  over.  If  this  store  can't 
run  without  me  it  can't  run.  Do  you  think  I  can  sit 
around  and  dicker  about  the  price  of  sheeting  with  - 
her  lying  —  over  there  ?  " 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do?  "  asked  the  guests. 

"Do?  I'm  going  to  do  the  only  thing  I  can  do. 
I'm  going  to  enlist." 

"  Enlist!  "  Deacon  Bradshaw's  heavy  eyes  showed 
a  quick  glint  of  interest.  "  Why,  you'll  - 

"Take  it!  Take  it!  If  it'll  do  you  any  good!" 
snapped  Dreenberg.  "If  you've  wanted  to  see  this 
store  closed,  I  guess  you'll  get  your  hope.  A  business 
—  well,  a  business  is  a  business,  and  I'm  a  Jew,  and  I 


KHAKI  191 

let  go  hard.  Believe  me,  I  let  go  hard,  men.  But  it's 
what  she  wants,  not  what  I  want.  You  can  under 
stand  that?  All  right.  But  I  tell  you,  it  don't  make 
any  difference  what  I  want,  now.  She  says,  '  Fight ! ' 
That's  good  enough  for  me.  She  doesn't  want  me  to 
fight  for  her.  She's  too  big  for  that.  She  wants  me 
to  fight  for  the  only  things  that  make  anything  worth 
living  for  —  and  for  the  country  that's  let  us  all  live 
and  breathe  and  be  men.  Well,  I'm  a  man !  I  enlist 
this  afternoon." 

Greenberg  was  standing  now  at  the  door.  He 
pointed  a  finger  at  the  astonished  crowd,  and  a  clear 
smile  came  on  his  heavy  lips.  "  Lend  me  a  soap-box 
and  a  lantern  to-night,  Mr.  Smith,"  he  said,  gayly, 
"  because  I'm  going  to  make  a  speech.  I'm  going  to 
pass  out  with  a  loud  noise,  believe  me,  and  I'm  going 
to  tell  a  lot  of  things  I  didn't  know  until  a  few  minutes 
ago. —  This  is  a  war,  men!  I  just  found  it  out.  So 
long!" 


XVI 

A  GREAT,  magnificent,  invisible  Thing  was  striding 
the  quiet  streets  of  Tredick,  now.  But  it  was  not  like 
that  Thing  before  which  Tredick  had  cowered,  in  days 
past.  This  was  no  longer  Fear  that  walked  abroad. 
Its  name  was  Service. 

The  old,  splendid  spirit  had  returned  to  Tredick, 
and  had  found  every  heart  a  receptive  heart,  and  every 
body  an  eager  instrument.  They  saw  it  now  —  the 
meaning  of  that  Khaki  —  the  Khaki  which  had 
brought  Tom  Gilstar  to  the  last  degree  of  self-sacrifice 
without  a  whimper;  the  khaki  which  had  sent  Sherry 
Gilstar  and  Hop  Murray  back  to  the  village  craving 
some  sharp  experience  that  would  leave  them  with 
clean  saluting  hands ;  the  khaki  which  Prudence  Per 
kins  had  worn  in  her  soul  when  she  threw  everything 
aside  to  go  forward  and  give  all  that  lay  in  her  power 
to  give. 

Khaki  and  Service  —  they  were  the  same,  then ! 
One  symbolized  the  other!  It  was  not  the  cloth,  but 
the  meaning  that  rested,  pure  and  strong,  behind  that 
woven  symbol. 

One  after  another  these  things  had  passed  before 
the  eyes  of  Tredick;  so  swiftly  that  Tredick  had  to 
catch  its  breath.  Tom,  Sherry,  Prudence  —  and  now 
Sam  Greenberg!  Tredick  was  awakening  at  last! 
You  could  see  it  in  every  eye,  in  every  flushed  and  ex 
pectant  and  inquiring  face.  Something  old-fashioned 
and  clear  began  to  glow ;  something  fine  and  articulate 
came  into  speech. 

Not  that  the  meaning  of  Service  was  instantly  clear; 

192 


KHAKI  193 

no.  Not  that  Tredick  immediately  asked,  waking 
from  a  long  sleep.  "  How  can  I  serve  ?  "  No ;  —  one 
does  not  awaken  from  a  long  sleep  that  way.  But 
once  aroused,  this  keen  sense  of  belonging,  of  partner 
ship  and  stewardship  in  something,  worked  like  a  sum 
mer  leaven.  And  when  Tredick  felt  that  it  was  really 
coining  back  to  the  American  Union,  it  was  really  com 
ing  back  to  something  more  than  that;  it  was  coming 
back  to  the  World.  To  a  World  where  men  and 
women  are  willing  to  suffer  and  to  die  for  the  right  to 
be  free. 

A  tall,  angular  woman,  sharp  of  features  and  down 
right  of  speech,  had  gone  away  from  Tredick,  and  she 
was  not  coming  back  to  Tredick  any  more.  Fathoms 
deep  she  lay,  now,  with  other  men  and  women  who  had 
seen  some  clear  truth,  and  followed  it,  followed  it 
where  it  leads  into  the  ambush  of  the  Hun,  that  Hun 
to  whom  Truth,  and  Love,  Infancy,  Womanhood,  are 
but  targets  for  his  cruelly  exulting  steel  and  blast. 

They  stood  on  street  corners,  and  in  front  of  the 
postoffice,  and  by  the  railroad  station,  and  on  the  steps 
of  the  Congregational  Church,  and  talked  falteringly, 
hesitatingly,  in  low-pitched  voices,  of  this  woman. 
Tom  Gilstar  was  packing  a  few  most-needed  things, 
ready  to  go  to  camp,  and  his  brother  Sherry  lay  with 
a  torn  shoulder  in  the  sunny,  fresh  bedroom  to  which 
he  had  come  back  to  sleep,  and  Tredick  knew  that 
these  boys  had  found  the  way  to  serve;  but  Tredick 
folks  were  not  thinking  of  them  now.  Their  thoughts 
were  of  a  woman ;  an  old  woman,  if  you  please,  a 
painfully  thin,  awkward,  sharp-tongued  woman,  of 
whom  they  had  always  stood  a  good  deal  in  awe, 
thinking  that  she  had  a  superior  contempt  for  her  own 
kind.  And  now  they  strove  to  recall  everything  that 
she  had  said  —  going  far  back  —  years  back  —  as  we 
do  ever  when  I'AID  has  been  stamped  upon  the  life 


194  KHAKI 

account  of  our  neighbor,  and  we  must  know  how  he 
or  she  faced  the  last  adventure. 

"  I  remember  how  she  looked  that  day/'  said  some 
body,  slowly.  "  You  remember,  it  was  the  big  mass 
meeting.  She  was  talking  right  out  to  Professor  Wen- 
ham.  You  remember,  don't  you?  —  she  said,  'I've 
got  nothing  but  myself, —  with  nothing  to  look  for 
ward  to  except  making  money.  But,  thank  God,  I've 
got  something  to  give ! ' 

"  She  had  a  queer  look  in  her  eye  when  she  said 
that,  sure." 

"  It's  funny  a  woman  with  all  that  money  would 
take  any  chances  — 

"  It  shows  she  must  have  been  thinking  of  these 
things  for  a  long  time." 

"If  that  damn  Wenham  should  come  along  now,  I'd 
bust  him  in  the  jaw  - 

"  No;  don't  talk  that  way.  She  wouldn't  want  any 
grudges  — 

"  They  say  she  was  disappointed  a  good  many  years 
ago,  in  a  love  affair.  My  father  says  he  knew  who  the 
fellow  was.  She  was  mighty  attractive  then,  and  the 
brightest  girl  in  town." 

"  Well,  cut  out  that  talk.  That's  nothing  to  be  gab 
bling  about  now.  The  Huns  have  murdered  her, 
that's  what.  And  we  never  knew  - 

-  What  a  fine  woman  she  was.  That's  right.  I 
know  of  a  poor  family  that  when  they  got  hard  up 
always  — 

"  Is  it  true  she  started  this  young  Jew  in  business?  " 

"  Yes;  and  he's  all  broke  up.     He's  enlisted." 

So  they  talked  on  the  street  corners ;  and  it  must  be 
said  that  most  of  it  was  idle  talk;  and  it  must  be  said 
that  it  ran  headlong  to  the  gruesome,  and  to  gossip, 
and  to  mean,  practical  matters,  and  to  self.  And  yet 


KHAKI  195 

there  was  something  more  than  all  this.  It  took  the 
form  of  a  question.  "  Why?  " 

Why  had  Prudence  Perkins  done  this  thing? 

And  little  by  little  Trcdick  realized  the  answer. 
That,  out  of  her  bitter,  torn,  hurt  years  in  Tredick, 
she  had  found  the  emptiness  of  money  and  of  self- 
seeking,  and  of  worldly  wisdom  and  shrewdness,  and 
the  fat  contentment  which  had  been  in  danger  of  riding 
this  Tredick  and  every  American  Tredick  to  a  sleek, 
squalid,  dastardly  end.  She  had  been  the  first  one  in 
Tredick  to  perceive  that  happiness  comes  only  through 
self-sacrifice  and  service;  that  was  all. 

She  had  seen  promise  in  Sherry  Gilstar  because  he 
had  worn  the  khaki  of  service ;  and  she  never  lost  faith 
in  him.  She  had  seen,  deeply  hidden,  something  of 
this  spirit  in  Sam  Greenberg  —  and  he  had  justified 
her  discernment.  She  had  despised  the  deacon  and 
Wenham,  and  the  rest  of  them,  because  they  prattled 
of  service  on  Sunday,  and  denied  it  on  the  following 
six  days.  And  when  she  saw  that  the  way  of  service 
was  the  way  of  humanity  —  of  human  rights  —  and 
when  she  saw  that  this  clumsy,  struggling,  muddled, 
well-meaning  United  States  of  hers  must  serve  by  suf 
fering  and  dying  and  toiling  against  the  might  of  a 
barbarian  horde  without  honor,  without  mercy,  with 
out  soul  —  she  seized  her  bit  of  khaki  and  went  forth. 

And  when  these  simple  truths  came  to  Tredick, 
Tredick  also  asked,  "  How  can  I  serve?" 

That  night,  Tredick  heard. 

Outside  the  postoffice,  on  the  curbing,  was  a  wooden 
box.  Beside  the  box  was  a  telephone  pole,  from  which 
hung  a  gasoline  lamp  which  ordinarily  flickered  and 
hissed  at  the  little  fruit  store  of  Nick  Papas,  a  twenty- 
two-year-old  Greek,  on  the  Odd-Fellows-Hall  corner. 
On  the  box  stood  a  man,  just  short  of  thirty.  He  wore 


ig6  KHAKI 

a  dark,  perfectly  tailored  suit,  with  other  accessories 
which  cried  the  city-bred  man  who  loves  to  be  well 
dressed.  In  his  right  hand  was  a  tightly  clutched 
black  derby ;  in  the  other  hand  he  held  a  small  Ameri 
can  flag.  It  was  Sam  Greenberg. 

It  was  good  to  look  at  this  man's  face.  He  was 
not  of  the  race  of  the  crowd  that  faced  him  —  a  crowd 
which  bowed  back  clear  under  the  trees  of  the  Com 
mon  opposite,  and  was  standing  with  bared  heads  while 
a  cornetist  played  the  national  anthem.  It  was  good, 
I  say,  to  look  at  this  young  fellow's  face.  It  was  a 
face  which  might  have  displayed,  beneath  a  crown  of 
coarse  black  hair,  merely  cleverness  and  good-natured 
sophistication.  It  was  a  face  which  had  expressed,  in 
time  gone,  just  those  things,  and  nothing  more.  But 
now,  it  was  different. 

The  glow  from  the  gasoline  lamp  showed  up  every 
line  —  and  made  the  shadows  under  the  eyes  like  black 
patches  of  court-plaster.  It  brought  into  relief  a  de 
termined  jaw  —  and  a  jaw  that  had  passion  and  suffer 
ing  in  its  poise.  You  could  not  see  the  eyes,  except  at 
rare  flashing  intervals  —  but  when  you  did  see  them, 
there  was  something  extraordinary  in  them  —  like  a 
new-found  and  powerful  love  and  determination.  It 
was  the  love  of  material  things  suddenly  converted  to 
something  else. 

The  last  note  of  the  cornet  died  away,  and  two  right 
hands  dropped  from  the  forehead  to  the  side  with  a 
sharp  slap.  These  hands  were  those  of  Gillis  and 
Kirkpatrick,  the  two  recruiting  officers,  who  stood  di 
rectly  behind  the  man  on  the  box. 

The  hand  that  held  the  flag  wavered  a  little  as  it 
was  raised  above  Greenberg's  head,  and  the  first  words 
cracked  out  harshly  and  unevenly.  But  there  was  a 
ring  in  them  that  made  them  not  merely  heard,  but 
felt. 


KHAKI  197 

"  My  friends,  I  want  to  thank  you  for  the  way 
you've  turned  out.  I  wondered  if  those  handbills 
would  do  the  business.  Well,  they  have.  I  suppose 
many  of  you,  when  you  read  the  bills,  just  grinned  and 
said,  '  Greenberg  is  doing  some  advertising.'  Well, 
you  were  right.  I  was  doing  some  advertising;  and 
the  biggest  I  ever  did.  But  it  wasn't  for  Greenberg, 
and  it  wasn't  for  the  Fifth  Avenue  Store.  To-mor 
row,  there  won't  be  any  Fifth  Avenue  Store.  Gee! 
that  hurts,  to  say  it  —  but  here  goes.  I've  enlisted 
in  the  army. 

"  But  I  didn't  get  you  here  just  to  tell  you  that ! 
Wait  a  minute  before  you  begin  to  throw  anything !  I 
wanted  to  get  a  crowd  here  that  I  could  tell  why  I 
enlisted,  and  I  wanted  to  tell  why  because  I  thought 
I'd  like  some  fellows  to  go  with  me  over  there  —  and 
if  you'll  go  easy  on  a  poor  devil  that  never  spoke  off 
a  soap-box  before,  I  won't  take  but  a  few  minutes  of 
your  time. 

"  Fellows,  I  didn't  know  until  this  afternoon  that 
there  was  a  war.  Sure,  I've  been  reading  the  news 
papers!  But  it  sounded  a  long  way  off,  and  I  didn't 
see  any  reason  why  I  couldn't  go  right  on  ringing  up 
sales  on  the  cash  register,  and  let  George  do  the  scrap 
ping,  if  he  liked  it  so  much.  Once  or  twice  I've  got 
letters  from  home  that  said  that  some  of  the  kids  I 
used  to  play  with,  around  the  New  York  Central  ele 
vated  tracks  at  a  Hundred-and-sixteenth  street,  had 
joined  the  army  or  navy.  What  did  I  say?  I  said, 
'  The  poor  boobs  have  gone  off  their  nuts.  Or  else 
they've  done  something,  and  they  want  to  beat  it  out  of 
town.'  I  didn't  get  the  idea  that  this  war  had  any 
thing  to  do  with  me,  at  all.  Maybe  you've  felt  that 
way,  a  little,  some  of  you. 

"This  afternoon  —  I  found  out  —  that  I  had  a 
little  share  —  in  this  war.  I  can't  tell  you  —  about 


198  KHAKI 

her — you've  all  probably  known  her  longer  than  I 
have  —  but  —  well,  she's  over  there.  You  all  know 
what  Miss  Perkins  did  for  me.  She  gave  me  a  chance 
to  make  good  —  and  nobody  else  ever  thought  it  was 
worth  while  to  do  that.  I  can't  talk  about  that.  I  — 
it's  something  else  I  want  to  say.  But  —  damn  their 
German  souls,  they  never  gave  her  a  chance !  Get  me, 
fellows !  They  never  gave  her  —  or  any  of  those 
women  who  were  going  over  there  to  nurse  the  sick 
and  wounded  —  never  gave  'em  a  chance ! 

"  I  tell  you  the  truth,  before  this  afternoon  if  you'd 
come  to  me  and  said  that  the  Huns  were  murdering 
women  and  children,  and  that  sort  of  thing,  I'd  have 
probably  said  it  was  another  one  of  those  newspaper 
stories.  Why  ?  Because  I  didn't  want  to  believe  it, 
that's  why!  It  would  have  bothered  me  to  think  it 
was  true,  so  I  said  it  probably  wasn't.  And  the  rea 
son  why  I  didn't  want  to  believe  it  was  because  I 
wanted  to  go  on  doing  business  at  the  good  old  stand, 
and  I  wanted  to  play  safe  behind  my  doors,  and  I 
didn't  want  to  see  this  country  fight  because  it  would 
have  meant  that  I  might  have  to  fight. 

"  Well,  I  see  a  lot  of  things  now !  But  she  had  to 
show  'em  to  me  by  going  over  there,  and  dying  over 
there.  I  can  see  now  that  we  —  I  mean  fellers  like 
me  —  have  been  taking  our  living  under  false  pre 
tenses.  We  were  getting  our  money,  and  our  food 
and  our  protection  here  in  this  country  of  ours,  and 
when  it  came  to  paying  for  it,  or  showing  any  grati 
tude  for  it,  we  wanted  to  make  a  twenty  per  cent,  com 
position  —  and  pay  that  in  wooden  money.  It  wasn't 
because  we  didn't  know  that  if  Germany  wins  this 
war,  we'll  be  working  for  the  Kaiser.  It  was  just 
that  we  wanted  to  sit  tight  and  let  somebody  else  go 
out  and  die  for  us!  Well,  she  went  out  and  died  for 
us.  Is  that  good  enough?  Is  that  —  I  can't  say  any 


KHAKI  199 

more,  fellows  —  something  gets  me  in  the  side,  here  — 
I  had  a  long  spiel  I  was  going  to  make  —  but  I  can't 
do  it!  I  just  want  to  say  that  if  you've  got  a  pal,  a 
good  pal,  he's  worth  going  to  the  last  ditch  for;  if 
you've  got  a  country  that's  worth  living  in,  it's  worth 
fighting  and  dying  for;  if  you're  an  American,  whether 
you  were  born  here  or  because  the  door  was  open  and 
you  walked  in  —  you've  got  to  put  your  hand  on  the 
table  now  !  We're  all  called  —  and  we've  got  to  show. 

"  Who'll  go  with  me?  Who'll  put  on  the  uniform 
and  serve  under  this  flag?  I  give  you  my  word,  I 
never  fired  a  revolver  in  my  life!  But  I'm  going  to 
learn  now !  and  believe  me,  I'm  going  to  get  a  few  of 
those  Huns  if  I  can!  Come  on,  fellows  —  you  young 
fellows  —  step  up  where  we  can  see  you !  What  about 
it?  Fellows,  this  is  the  happiest  minute  of  my  life. 
I  can't  tell  you  how  it  feels  —  but  you'll  }<now.  It's 
doing  something  without  figuring  percentage !  It's  go 
ing  somewhere  on  a  job  for  the  thing  that  looks  big 
gest  to  you!  W'ho'll  come  with  me?— -There's  Joe 
Capodilupo !  Joe,  come  on !  " 

The  Italian  cobbler  stepped  out  of  the  front  line  of 
the  crowd  with  a  smile  that  showed  his  teeth. 
"  Sure!  "  he  replied.  "  I'll  go,  Mr.  Greenberg!  " 

"  Number  one !  "  shouted  Sam,  waving  the  flag  fran 
tically.  ''Say,  fellows,  don't  you  get  the  idea?  Oh, 
if  there  was  only  somebody  with  an  education,  to  tell 
you  about  these  things !  I've  got  it  all  inside,  here, 
but  I  don't  know  how  to  say  it.  It's  being  on  the 
level  with  yourself,  and  the  old  flag!  It's  doing  your 
bit  for  the  kids  and  the  women,  and  the  folks  that 
have  to  live  after  we've  kicked  out!  It's  being  of  use 
—  of  service  to  something  that  don't  pay  dividends  in 
money,  but  in  something  that  makes  a  man  of  you ! 
It's- 

Greenberg  stopped  suddenly,  his  face  ashen;  and  as 


200  KHAKI 

he  tried  to  step  down  from  the  box,  he  reeled.  Ser 
geant  Gillis  caught  him  by  the  arms. 

"  I  can't  go  on ;  I  feel  dizzy  and  faint,  sergeant !  " 
breathed  Sam.  "But  I've  got  them  going!  They're 
interested.  You  go  to  it  now."-  -  Then  he  gasped, 
with  a  pitiful  little  spasm  of  diffidence,  "  I  didn't  make 
a  fool  of  myself,  did  I,  sergeant?  " 

"Make  a  fool  of  yourself?  Not  on  your  life! 
You're  the  best  little  recruiter  in  the  army,  Greenberg !  " 

Sergeant  Gillis  leaped  up  on  the  box,  and  began  to 
shout.  He  saw  the  mood  of  the  crowd,  and  knew  that 
his  time  for  business  had  come.  His  metallic  voice 
barked  out  in  the  night  air. 

"  Now  is  the  time ! ''  he  cried.  "  You've  seen  what's 
happened.  We've  got  Tom  Gilstar  —  look  at  him, 
over  there !  The  biggest,  bravest  chap  you  ever  saw 
in  your  life  —  and  you  never  suspected  it,  did  you? 
We've  got  another  boy  that  will  get  the  Hun,  believe 
me  —  up  at  the  Gilstar  house  —  as  soon  as  he  gets 
well.  We've  got  Greenberg,  who  is  going  to  let  every 
thing  slide  and  take  a  chance  with  the  colors.  That's 
patriotism,  I  tell  you,  men!  Girls,  don't  let  yourself 
be  found  in  company  with  a  man  who  shows  yellow, 
now  !  —  Let's  make  a  regular  meeting  of  it,  now  we're 
here.  Anybody  want  to  speak  ?  You  ?  You  ?  Climb 
up  here  and  tell  how  you  feel  about  it !  " 

An  egg-shaped  man,  pale  as  death,  elbowed  his  way 
through  the  crowd.  "  Yes ;  I've  got  something  to  say 
if  they'll  listen  to  me!  "  he  said,  in  a  trembling  voice. 
It  was  Prof.  George  Watling  Wenham,  of  the 
Academy. 

"  Right  up  on  the  box !  "  barked  Sergeant  Gillis, 
grasping  the  corpulent  man  by  an  elbow  and  shoulder, 
and  giving  him  a  boost. 

But  when  the  crowd  saw  who  was  facing  them,  there 
was  a  rebellious  murmur.  Somebody  yelled,  "  Get 


KHAKI  201 

down,  Wenham!  You've  done  enough!  Go  home 
and  hide  your  head !  You  insulted  Miss  Perkins !  " 

The  big  man  hesitated  a  moment.  "  I  want  to 
make  a  public  apology,"  he  said,  thickly. 

"  Let  him  talk !  Give  him  a  show !  Let's  hear  what 
he  has  to  say!  None  of  that  coward  stuff!  "  There 
were  jeers  and  catcalls,  and  more  cries  of  "  Give  him 
a  show  !  Fair  play !  Let's  hear  what  he  has  to  say !  " 

"  I've  been  wrong—  "  began  the  professor,  faintly. 

"  Louder !     Can't  hear  you !  " 

"  I  was  wrong!  "  repeated  Wenham,  his  voice  slip 
ping  into  a  scream.  "  I  want  to  make  a  public  apol 
ogy.  I  meant  to  do  what  was  right  —  you  can't  doubt 
that  I  was  honest  about  it !  Friends,  you  can't  doubt 
that!  I  wanted  peace.  But  I  don't  want  peace  any 
more.  At  least  I  don't  want  it  at  the  price  I  was 
willing  to  pay !  There  is  something  bigger  than  peace 

-  I  see  that  now  —  we  are  all  beginning  to  see  it  — • 
because  the  noblest  woman  in  Tredick  made  us  see  it! 
There  is  something  bigger  than  peace,  and  that  is  self- 
sacrifice,  which  is  service !     Friends,  this  is  a  terrible 
moment  for  me.     You  can't  realize  how  I  feel.     Oh, 
if  that  wonderful  woman  were  only  here  to  grant  me 
forgiveness!     What  can  I  do?     I  must  do  something 

-  I  must  be  of  help  — 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  you  can  do!  "  rang  out  the  voice 
of  Harold  Stenner,  cashier  of  the  bank.  "  I'll  tell  you 
what  you  can  all  do  —  you  who  can't  fight.  You  can 
buy  Liberty  bonds.  I'm  right  here  to  take  subscrip 
tions.  Ciive  me  your  names  and  the  amount  you  can 
take,  and  I'll  collect  later." 

"  But  I  want  to  gii'c  something,"  rejoined  Wen- 
ham.  "  I've  got  a  little  money  laid  away.  I  want  to 
give  it  —  not  lend  it." 

"  Well,  just  as  you  please,"  said  Stenner.  "  I'll  take 
it  for  the  Red  Cross,  if  you  say.  But  don't  anybody 


202  KHAKI 

get  the  idea  that  you're  not  serving  your  country  when 
you  lend  your  money  to  it !  Uncle  Sam  doesn't  want 
charity.  He  wants  working  capital  —  and  he's  ready 
and  willing  and  able  to  pay  interest  on  it !  " 

Sergeant  Gillis  gently  removed  the  principal  of  the 
academy  from  the  rostrum.  "  Any  one  who  wants  to 
talk  Liberty  Loan  can  see  Mr.  Wenham !  "  he  cried. 
"  Just  now  we  want  recruits !  We  want  you  fellows 
who  can  fight." 

"I'll  enlist!"  cried  Fred  Payne,  stepping  forward. 
"  Damned  if  I'll  have  it  said  that  I  wasn't  willing  to 
serve  the  country !  " 

He  meant  it  too,  this  man  of  forty-two  or  there 
abouts,  stoop-shouldered  and  wind-bleached.  "  Put 
me  down  for  a  suit  of  khaki,  sergeant.  I  guess  Ma 
can  look  out  for  herself  till  I  get  back." 

"  God  bless  your  soul,"  cried  Gillis,  smiling.  "  I 
wish  we  could  take  you,  Mr  —  er  —  What's  your  name 
-but  I'm  afraid  we  can't.  You're  a  little  bit- 

"  Am  I?  Am  I?"  shrilled  Payne,  belligerently. 
"  Too  old,  am  I  ?  I'll  wrastle  any  of  this  young  fry, 
two  falls  out  of  three.  Too  old,  am  I  ?  Don't  you 
believe  it." 

Out  in  the  middle  of  the  crowd  Wells  Hardy  and 
his  indispensable  son  Herbert  had  been  standing,  or 
rather,  swaying  with  the  mass.  Suddenly  young 
Hardy  grasped  his  father's  arm.  "  I've  got  to  enlist, 
dad,"  he  whispered.  "  I'm  going  up  now.  You  can 
get  along  some  way  at  the  store  - 

The  tears  came  into  Wells  Hardy's  eyes.  "  I 
wouldn't  say  a  word  to  stop  you,  Herbie,"  he  mur 
mured.  "  I  guess  we  haven't  realized  how  serious  it 
is.  If  you  really  want  to  go  —  well,  I'm  proud  of 
you.  Since  Tom  enlisted,  and  Sherry  Gilstar  came 
back,  and  Prudence  —  has  gone  —  it  seems  different." 


KHAKI  203 

But  before  Herbert  Hardy  reached  the  sergeant,  an 
elderly  man  and  his  strapping  son  were  there  at  the 
soapbox.  "  Mr.  Officer,"  said  the  father,  "  my  son 
Johnnie  wants  to  go.  He'll  make  a  good  soldier  for 
you.  He's  put  up  three  cords  of  four-foot  wood  every 
day  the  last  week.  Feel  of  his  muscle." 

"  I  don't  need  to  feel  of  his  muscle,"  laughed  Gillis. 
"  He's  a  corker." 

"  When  my  wife  was  sick,  and  I  was  down  with 
rheumatism,  five  years  ago,  Miss  Perkins  came  down 
to  our  place,  'bout  five  miles  from  here,  to  see  us. 
She  had  a  mortgage  on  us,  and  when  I  saw  her  driving 
into  the  yard,  I  shut  the  door  of  ma's  room  quick,  so 
she  couldn't  hear  what  was  said.  We  hadn't  even  paid 
the  interest  for  two  years.  Miss  Perkins  says, 
'  George,  you've  had  about  enough  trouble,  I  guess. 
Here's  that  mortgage.  It  won't  bother  you  any 
more.'  And  she  lifted  up  the  cover  of  the  chunk- 
stove  and  threw  it  in. —  Johnnie,  don't  you  come  back 
here  without  killing  a  dozen  of  those  murderers!  " 

It  was  an  innocent  speech  and  anti-climax  that  would 
have  been  grotesquely  funny  at  any  other  time.  But 
those  who  heard  the  father  of  Johnnie,  received  the 
words  in  grim,  approving  silence. 

Sam  Greenberg  was  standing  now  silently  at  the 
side  of  Kirkpatrick.  He  had  done  all  he  could;  and 
he  had  the  feeling,  though  he  watched  the  progress  of 
the  meeting  he  had  set  in  motion,  in  a  sort  of  daze, 
that  altogether  he  had  done  well.  He  observed  that 
the  crowd  was  beginning  to  split  up  into  attentive 
groups ;  the  surest  sign  that  a  crowd  is  applying  its  own 
mind  to  the  mind  of  the  speakers.  There  was  no  loud, 
turbulent  emotion,  no  jostling,  and  nobody  even  inter 
rupted  any  more.  Over  all  there  was  evident  a  fine 
sense  of  thoughtful  restraint.  They  were  asking, 


204  KHAKI 

"What  can  we  do  to  serve?"  They  were  entering 
the  khaki,  every  one  of  them,  even  those  who  would 
never  wear  it  except  in  the  spirit. 

"  The  best  job  I  ever  put  over,"  Sam  was  saying  to 
himself.  "  I  don't  know  where  I'm  going,  but  I'm 
certainly  on  my  way  —  and  it  feels  good  so  far,"  he 
added,  whimsically.  And  then,  somebody  touched  him 
on  the  arm.  He  turned  and  looked  into  the  face  of 
Deacon  Bradshaw. 

The  deacon's  eyes  sought  those  of  his  young  rival 
with  troubled  timidity,  and  anxiety.  Those  heavy 
gray  eyebrows,  which  gave  Charles  Bradshaw  his 
scowling  appearance,  seemed  lower  than  ever.  His 
eyelids  looked  inflamed,  in  that  glaring  light.  He 
said,  hoarsely,  "  Can  you  come  with  me  a  minute, 
Greenberg?  " 

"  Sure !  "  replied  Sam,  curiously.  Then  he  be 
thought  himself  that  he  might  no  longer  be  his  own 
master  in  such  matters.  He  touched  Kirkpatrick 
lightly.  "  Is  it  all  right  if  I  go?  "  he  asked. 

"  Why,  of  course."  Kirkpatrick  held  out  his  hand. 
"  Bully  for  you,  Sam !  "  he  said.  "  You'll  be  'round 
in  the  morning,  won't  you?  You've  started  the  ball 
rolling.  I'll  tell  the  captain  about  it.  Those  little 
things  count." 

"  You  don't  mind  coming  over  to  —  my  store  ?  " 
asked  Charles  Bradshaw,  when  they  gained  the  free 
part  of  the  Main  street. 

"  No,  of  course  not."  Greenberg  looked  at  his 
companion  again,  trying  to  read  the  puzzle.  The  old 
man  was  walking  swiftly  with  bowed  head.  His  cane 
ferrule  rang  on  the  bricks  with  each  pace.  They 
came  to  the  store.  Fumblingly  the  deacon  unlocked 
the  door,  and  they  edged  back  among  the  tables  and 
counters,  their  way  lighted  only  from  the  feeble  glow 
from  outside,  till  they  reached  the  far  end.  There  the 


KHAKI  205 

deacon  turned  on  a  single  incandescent  lamp  over  his 
desk,  and  motioned  to  a  chair. 

First,  the  old  man  reached  in  a  pigeon-hole  of  the 
desk  and  took  out  three  cigars.  He  passed  them  over 
solemnly.  "  I'm  sorry  I  took  them  this  afternoon/' 
he  said,  in  a  low  voice.  "  I  don't  smoke,  and  I  just 
took  them  for  greed.  I'm  afraid  I've  been  —  that 
way  —  too  much.  I'd  feel  better  if  you  take  'em 
back." 

Sam  Greenberg  laughed  for  the  first  time  in  years, 
it  seemed  to  him.  He  waved  his  hand  and  replied, 
"Oh,  couldn't  think  of  it!  Why,  you're  as  welcome 
as  the  flowers  in  May,  deacon." 

"  I'd  ruther  you'd  take  'em,"  insisted  the  deacon, 
with  such  sober  entreaty  that  Greenberg  put  them  in 
his  pocket.  He  stared  with  amazement  at  the  old  man, 
who  creaked  back  in  the  swivel  chair,  removed  a  big 
linen  handkerchief  from  his  pocket,  folded  it  the  long 
way,  and  placed  it  over  his  eyes,  with  a  mournful  sigh. 

"You're  not  feeling  well,  deacon!"  cried  Sam. 
"  Hadn't  I  better  - 

"No,  I  feel  well  enough.  Except  —  a  little  dazed 
and  queer."  Then  he  sat  bolt  upright  and  pecked  out 
these  words : 

"  Do  you  believe  she  —  Prudence  —  is  —  gone?  " 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence  before  Sam  choked 
out,  "  Yes.  God,  I'd  give  everything  to  —  not  to  be 
lieve  it.  But  —  it's  no  use." 

"  I'm  an  old  fool,"  said  the  deacon,  sharply,  as 
though  addressing  himself,  "  just  as  I  was  a  young 
fool.  You've  enlisted  in  the  army,  Greenberg,  noth 
ing  I  can  say  would  make  you  feel  any  better  or  worse 
-  but  I  envy  you.  I'm  an  old  man,  my  boy  —  a  poor 
stubborn  willful  old  man,  who  can't  even  enlist. 
There  are  days  coming  —  she  was  right  —  she  was 
always  right  —  that  will  try  our  souls  —  and  nothing 


206  KHAKI 

for  a  willful  old  man  but  to  plod  his  way  to  the  grave 
here  in  Tredick,  while  the  youth  —  the  young  blood  — 
are  living  to  the  full.  Well,  I  suppose  I've  earned 
just  that.  I  suppose  I  have.  It's  a  bitter  draught, 
though." 

"  Upon  my  word,  deacon,"  exclaimed  Sam,  begin 
ning  to  be  afraid  he  was  in  parley  with  a  lunatic,  "  I 
don't  get  what  you  mean  at  all." 

"  No,  perhaps  not,"  went  on  Charles  Bradshaw,  in 
that  even,  placid  manner  with  which  old  age  clothes 
the  deepest  emotions.  He  eyed  his  young  companion 
keenly,  and  fell  to  folding  and  refolding  the  big  hand 
kerchief.  Then  he  went  on,  still  though  mostly  to  him 
self: 

"  She  was  always  the  brave  soul.  She  was  a  real 
woman,  and  yet  bigger  than  most  women.  There  was 
something  too  fine  about  her  that  made  people  afraid 
of  her,  and  yet  they  wanted  to  love  her.  Look  at  them 
now.  Out  in  the  street  there!  They  are  thinking 
about  her. —  Yes,  she  was  the  kind  that  knows  even 
how  to  die,  to  do  it  the  noblest  way." 

"  You  mean  Miss  Perkins,"  said  Sam,  heavily,  and 
perplexed  to  hear  the  deacon  talking  about  her  in  this 
way. 

"  I  mean  her,"  said  Charles  Bradshaw,  with  finality. 
"  You're  going  away,  young  man.  Anyway,  I  don't 
care  if  you  do  tell.  It  won't  make  any  difference  now. 
Yes  —  I  ought  to  tell,  and  I  must  tell  some  one. 

"If  there  was  anything  harsh  and  unlovely  about 
that  wonderful  woman,  I  was  the  cause.  I  did  her  a 
great  wrong,  Greenberg.  She  —  cared  for  me.  I  - 
well,  I  must  have  loved  her,  or  it  wouldn't  have  left 
this  scar.  But  I  was  greedy.  I  wanted  money.  And 
she  came  of  poor  folks.  I  wanted  her,  but  I  wanted 
money.  And  so  I  went  where  money  was. 

"  I  broke  my  word  to  her.     Yes.     I  did  that.     She 


KHAKI  207 

closed  her  eyes  tight  for  a  minute,  that  night  I  —  I 
told  her,  and  she  put  her  hands  over  her  breast  —  like 
this  —  and  when  she  spoke  to  me,  it  wasn't  the  same 
voice  any  more.  And  she  laughed  —  not  a  pleasant 
laugh,  like  her  old  school-girl  laugh. 

"  '  Money ! '  she  said  to  me.  '  Yes,  perhaps  that's 
the  greatest  thing  in  the  world,  Charles.  I  guess  it 
must  be,  or  —  this  wouldn't  happen.  We'll  run  a  race 
for  money,  to  see  who  gets  the  most  first.  We'll  both 
marry  money  —  only  I  won't  be  bothered  With  a  hus 
band.  I'll  marry  the  dollars  outright.' 

"  She  always  beat  me  in  business,  Greenberg.  She 
had  more  brains  than  I  ever  had.  She  had  more 
brains  than  all  of  us  put  together.  And  she  had 
something  else.  She  —  Phoebe  told  me  she  had  a  doll, 
a  big  doll  up  in  her  room,  that  she  used  to  dress  new 
every  year.  God  above  us  —  I  did  that  to  her !  That 
was  why  she  had  no  son  to  give  to  her  country  — 

"  We'd  better  go  out  with  the  crowd !  "  choked  Sam 
Greenberg,  jumping  to  his  feet,  suddenly. 

"  \Vait  a  minute.  I  won't  say  any  more.  I'm  a 
willful  old  man, —  and  this  is  a  judgment  on  me. 
She's  gone,  gone !  There  was  nobody  —  nobody  — 
wait  a  minute,  I'll  come  to  the  point.  She  has  shown 
me  the  way  to  serve,  Greenberg  —  as  she  showed  you. 
Let  me  do  what  I  can.  I'll  buy  bonds  —  thousands 
of  bonds  —  anything  money  can  do.  I'll  do  it  for  the 
country;  I  don't  dare  to  say  I'll  do  it  for  her.  But 
your  store,  the  Fifth  Avenue  Store  —  it  was  hers  and 
yours,  you  say.  I'll  run  it  for  you,  while  you're  away. 
I'll  run  it  without  a  cent  of  pay  —  and  I'm  honest  — 
they'll  tell  you  that  —  if  I  am  a  fool.  I'll  close  this 
store  and  run  that  store  of  yours  —  and  I'll  make  it 
pay  you  handsomely,  Greenberg  —  because  I  ought  to 
—  and  she  must  have  liked  you  a  little  — 

"  You  don't  mean  it !  "  shouted  Greenberg.     "  You 


208  KHAKI 

don't  mean  you'll  keep  our  store  going  till  maybe  I 
come  back  - 

"  Every  penny  of  profit  shall  be  hers  and  yours," 
was  the  answer.  "If  you'll  let  me  —  will  you?  --  I'm 
an  old  man  and  willful,  but  my  word  is  good,  and  I'll 
give  bond  — 

"  Wait !  I  can't  think  of  all  these  things  at  once, 
Mr.  Bradshaw,"  said  Sam.  "  Look  at  the  crowd  out 
there.  They're  cheering  something  or  somebody. 
What  the  devil  is  a  store  anyway?  Let's  get  out 
there  and  give  a  bunch  of  cheers  for  the  U.  S.  A. 
That's  the  only  thing  that's  worth  while,  now." 


XVII 

WHEN  Sherry  Gilstar  opened  his  eyes,  he  felt  that 
he  must  have  slept  a  long,  long  while.  There  was  the 
faint,  recollective  odor  of  clean  linen ;  and  the  sheets 
between  which  he  lay  felt  soft-ironed  —  just  slightly 
crisp,  and  refreshing.  He  was  looking  up  at  the  ceil 
ing  overhead. 

The  ceiling  was  just  as  it  looked  when  he  slept  in 
this  bed  years  before.  It  was  dull  white,  but,  per 
haps  owing  to  the  thinness  of  the  plastering,  the  laths 
showed  through  in  long  gray  lines.  In  a  bee-line  from 
his  eyes  was  a  hook.  He  had  never  known  what  that 
hook  was  for;  he  recalled  wondering  what  it  was  for, 
as  a  boy,  and  he  marveled  that  he  had  never  asked  and 
found  out.  Then  he  remembered  —  it  must  have  been 
when  he  was  a  little  fellow  —  seeing  a  spider,  one 
morning,  letting  himself  down  plump  toward  the  child 
ish  nose,  from  that  hook ;  and  he  remembered  that  he 
had  screamed  ;  and  mother  came.  .  .  . 

As  he  lay  staring  at  the  familiar  hook,  and  thinking 
of  the  predatory  spider,  a  breeze  fanned  his  hot  fore 
head,  coming  through  the  screen  in  the  window  at  the 
right.  No  breeze  had  ever  seemed  so  good,  so  pure. 
It  was  not  laden  with  any  perfume  of  flowers;  it  was 
just  one  of  those  keen  breaths  of  ozone  from  the 
mountains  over  yonder  —  a  breath  of  late  Spring,  full 
of  returning  life. 

Something  moved,  Sherry  thought,  at  his  right 
hand ;  but  he  felt  too  luxuriously  tired  and  weak  to 
turn  his  head,  at  first.  He  thought  he  perceived  an 
other  human  breathing  than  his  own,  too;  yet  he  felt 

209 


210  KHAKI 

blissfully  conscious  of  phantasies,  and  let  it  go  at  that, 
much  as  very  sick  men  ignore  the  footsteps  of  the 
Stranger. 

But  when  the  young  fellow  did  dreamily  turn  his 
head  toward  the  right,  two  deep  tender  eyes  were 
looking  into  his  —  eyes  that  were  wistful  and  a  little 
afraid,  as  those  of  a  young  mother  who  stands  over 
the  little  crib,  fearful  lest  the  child  awaken  — •  fearful 
lest  it  should  not  awaken. 

"I  didn't  disturb  you,  did  I,  Sherry?"  said  Alice 
Bradshaw  in  a  whisper.  "  I  have  been  as  quiet  as  a 
mouse.  Your  mother  said  I  might  sit  here  till  you 
woke  up." 

He  had  enough  fever  so  that,  before  his  eyes,  the 
beautiful  face  receded  and  came  close,  and  receded 
again,  as  he  watched.  First  her  eyes  were  very  close 
to  his,  and  then  they  went  away  off,  and  slowly  came 
back  again.  Then,  as  he  threw  off  this  whimsy  of 
temperature,  he  saw  that  she  was  trying  very  hard  to 
smile,  and  not  succeeding  very  well.  He  had  never 
found  it  hard  to  smile,  himself;  and  he  did  not  now. 

"  I  didn't  expect  to  see  you  here,  Alice." 

She  did  smile  then,  because  she  wanted  to  seem  as 
cheerful  as  possible,  to  make  him  cheerful.  "  Oh, 
Sherry,"  she  said,  "  you  should  see  your  friend  Mr. 
Murray,  with  an  apron  tied  around  his  waist,  down 
stairs  helping  your  mother  with  the  dishes !  It's  so 
funny!" 

Sherry  laughed  quietly  at  that ;  not  because  he 
thought  it  very  funny,  but  because  he  was  expected  to 
enjoy  it.  "  Hop  will  make  a  good  servant-girl,"  he 
snickered. 

She  took  the  hand  that  rested  on  the  edge  of  the 
bed.  His  hand  was  hot,  and  hers  seemed  cold  to  him. 
"  I've  been  watching  you  as  you  lay  there  asleep, 
Sherry,"  she  said,  slowly.  "  I  don't  know  that  I  ever 


KHAKI  211 

noticed  anybody  asleep  before,  except  very  little  chil 
dren.  I  wonder  if  we  all  look  that  way  —  I  mean 
very  innocent  and  helpless,  like  children." 

"  I  guess  I  couldn't  have  looked  very  innocent,"  he 
replied,  with  a  throbbing  recollection  of  the  past  few 
days. 

''Oh,  Sherry!"  she  cried,  clutching  his  hand  more 
tightly.  "  I've  such  good  news  for  you!  I  wanted  to 
be  first  to  tell  you.  Mr.  Cracknell  was  here  while 
you've  been  asleep.  He's  coming  back  here  later.  He 
says  it  can  be  fixed  now,  so  that  you  won't  even  need 
to  appear  in  court.  Those  men  are  going  to  plead 
guilty.  He  says  if  Mr.  Murray  will  go,  you  needn't. 
You  can  make  a  —  I  forget  what  it  is  —  some  sort  of 
paper  telling  about  it.  And  he  said  to  your  mother, 
I  wouldn't  stand  in  the  way  of  that  plucky  boy  of 
yours  for  anything,  Mrs.  Gilstar.  I  wish  I  could  en 
list  along  with  him.'  And  Sergeant  Gillis  says  he 
wants  to  come  up  to  see  you  as  soon  as  you're  able." 

The  young  fellow  smiled  faintly ;  but  the  news  didn't 
stir  him  very  much.  Alice  was  a  little  disappointed  at 
his  easy  silence. 

"  And  Sam  Greenberg,  who  was  in  partnership  with 
your  aunt,  has  enlisted!  Just  think  of  that,  Sherry!  " 

"  Bully  for  him !  "  was  the  reply. 

But  still  Sherry  seemed  to  have  little  interest.  He 
turned  his  head  and  stared  at  the  ceiling  again.  The 
girl's  lip  trembled,  and  she  turned  her  own  head  and 
rested  it  on  her  arm,  which  lay  along  the  back  of  the 
chair.  She  was  silent  a  while.  Then  she  faltered, 
"  Sherry,  you're  not  —  very  sick  —  are  you?" 

He  turned  again  and  looked  at  her.  "  Alice,"  he 
replied,  "  I'm  not  very  sick,  if  you  mean  my  shoulder. 
But  I'm  sick  somewhere  in  my  head.  I've  been  lying 
here  twisting  my  brain  till  it's  in  knots,  I  guess.  I'm 
glad  —  about  what  Cracknell  says,  J3ut  I  wouldn't 


212  KHAKI 

have  cared  much,  either  way.  I  can't  bear  the  idea 
now  of  people  doing  things  for  me.  I  —  I've  got  to 
do  something  for  other  people  —  or  I  don't  want  to 
go  on  living.  In  fact,  Alice,  if  they  let  me  go  back 
to  the  army,  I'm  hoping  —  that  I'll  have  a  chance  —  to 
leave  a  medal  or  something  —  not  that  /  want  any 
medal  —  but  for  mother,  and  the  others.  I  want  'em 
- 1  suppose  it's  selfish  —  but  I  want  'em  to  say,  after 
the  casualty  lists  come  in,  *  Well,  Gilstar  did  something 
decent  after  all.  He  wasn't  a  complete  — 

"  You  don't  know  what  you're  saying,  Sherry,"  in 
terrupted  the  girl.  "  You  —  you're  not  going  to 
France  to  die,  Sherry.  You're  going  over  there  to 
live.  Tom  is  going  over  there  to  live.  Sam  is  going 
over  there  to  live.  Because  we  haven't  any  of  us 
been  living  —  not  any  of  us,  even  those  who  are  called 
the  best  of  us.  You  don't  live  unless  you  live  —  a 
little  —  or  a  good  deal  —  for  others.  Oh,  I've  just 
come  to  see  that!  But  it's  so.  That's  why  I'm  going 
to  France  — 

"  You !  "  Sherry  Gilstar  was  up  on  one  elbow. 
"No!  Not  you!" 

"  Yes.  I  am  going.  I  want  to  live.  I'm  going 
into  the  Red  Cross,  as  —  as  dear  Prudence  did.  And 
won't  that  be  splendid,  Sherry  —  you  and  I  —  both  in 
France  —  the  same  errand  —  to  do  something  for 
others  —  we  won't  see  each  other,  maybe  —  but  we'll 
know !  Oh,  Sherry,  I'm  going  to  wait  till  you  are 
well  and  strong,  and  able  to  go.  Then  I'm  going. 
We'll  both  come  back  —  I  know  that  —  I  know  it  be 
cause  —  well,  we've  just  got  acquainted  with  ourselves 
and  each  other,  and  God  wouldn't  —  let  it  end  there. 
You've  never  been  nice  to  me,  Sherry  —  you  know 
what  I  mean;  you've  never  made  much  love  to  me; 
and  I  like  you  all  the  better  for  it  —  but  I  have  always 
known  what  you  thought  and  what  I  thought,  Sherry 


KHAKI  213 

—  and  after  we've  done  something  for  other  people, 
we'll  come  back  and  be  very  happy  - 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  —  after  all  this  —  you 
would  care  for  me,  and  —  all,  if  I  made  a  man  of  my 
self  !  "  He  was  staring  into  her  eyes  with  avid,  fever 
ish,  doubting  eyes. 

"  After  all  this!  I  don't  know  as  all  this  was  very 
much  —  or  bad  —  or  anything.  But  we  mustn't  talk 
about  it  now,  anyway.  First,  we  are  Americans, 
Sherry.  That  must  come  first.  We  are  going  to 
France,  because  we  are  needed.  We  must  help.  We 
must  suffer,  and  be  patient,  and  useful.  And  we'll  be 
very  happy  doing  that,  won't  we  ?  This  must  all  come 
first,  though.  You  will  fight,  and  I  will  nurse  — 

"  But  your  father  won't  let  you !  " 

"  My  father  is  my  father,  Sherry.  The  United 
States  is  my  country.  And  father's  country.  And  if 
father  can't  see  or  hear,  I  can. —  You  don't  know,  dear 
Sherry,  what's  been  going  on  here  since  you  came 
home,  and  were  brought  to  this  room.  Tredick  isn't 
Tredick  any  more.  Oh,  it's  wonderful!  They're  not 
talking  about  anything  but  the  war  —  and  not  the  war 
news,  or  the  war  gossip,  but  about  what  we  are  going 
to  do  to  help.  Think  of  it,  Sherry,  fourteen  young 
fellows  enlisted  this  morning!  They  were  the  ones 
who  offered  their  services  last  night.  At  Sam's  mass 
meeting,  you  know.  I  heard  that  Mr.  Stenner  got  sub 
scriptions  for  more  than  $28,000  last  night,  too  —  just 
think  of  all  that,  in  one  night,  in  Tredick. —  So  you 
see,  Sherry,  we  must  go.  You  and  I.  We  are  going 
to  live" 

He  reached  for  one  of  her  hands,  and  clasped  it 
eagerly  between  both  his.  "  I  see  what  you  mean, 
Alice !  "  he  cried.  "  It  hasn't  been  clear  to  me,  at  all. 
I  knew  I  wanted  to  get  back  in  the  khaki,  and  do 
something  decent  and  clean;  but  I  hadn't  thought  of 


214  KHAKI 

it  that  way.  Yes ;  they  do  need  us  —  they  need  me  — 
don't  they  ?  Say  that  again,  Alice  !  I  can't  hear  that 
too  many  times !  I've  wanted  to  be  needed  —  I  guess 
that  must  have  been  it  all  these  years,  when  I  wanted 
something,  and  didn't  know  what  it  was.  I've  wanted 
to  be  of  service.  And  now  I  can. —  I  wonder  if 
Cracknell  is  right?  I  mustn't  slip  now.  I  mustn't 
lose  this  chance !  —  And  you're  going  to  France !  Oh, 
Alice,  if  I  get  shot,  I'll  ask  them  to  slip  me  into  your 
hospital.  You  wouldn't  have  to  do  anything  —  band 
ages  or  that  stuff  —  all  I'd  have  to  do  would  be  to  look 
at  you  - 

"Oh,  please!  You're  making  fun  of  me,  now, 
Sherry!" 

"  No,  not  by  a  long  shot.  I  mean  it. —  I  -  The 
young  fellow  turned  so  quickly  that  he  wrenched  the 
wounded  shoulder,  and  it  brought  a  gasp  from  him, 
and  sent  the  blood  out  of  his  cheeks.  "  Ugh !  That 
hurt !  "  He  flopped  down  and  lay  pressing  her  hand 
gently  for  a  while.  Then  without  lifting  his  head,  and 
without  opening  his  eyes,  he  said  softly : 

"  Alice  —  my  dearest  little  girl  —  I  feel  almost  well 
again.  That  —  you  said  about  the  country  coming 
first  in  our  hearts  —  that's  right  —  I'm  with  you  there. 
God  bless  the  old  flag,  and  everything  it  stands  for  — 
and  all  the  people  who  love  it,  Alice  —  forever  and 
ever.  I  —  I  won't  say  anything  more  now  —  about 
you  and  me.  I  —  I've  always  loved  you,  Alice  —  and 
because  I  thought  I  could  never  have  you  —  I  was 
weak  enough  to  be  a  quitter  and  a  sneak.  I  have  al 
ways  loved  you  —  but  it  must  have  been  I  didn't  love 
you  the  right  way  —  or  something  —  because  now  I 
see  that  even  love  for  a  dear  woman  won't  make  a  man 
small,  but  big  —  and  it  makes  me  big  now  —  and  I 
can  keep  it  in  my  heart  —  and  fight  for  others  —  in 
France.  I'm  pretty  weak,  I  guess.  I  had  no  idea  it 


KHAKI  215 

made  a  fellow  so  tired  to  talk.  It  never  did  before. 
Lord  knows.  But  I'll  be  on  my  feet  pretty  soon,  and 
I'll  make  a  bee-line  for  the  recruiting  office. —  I  said  I 
wouldn't  talk  about  you  and  me  —  but  —  would  it  be 
all  right  —  if  you  should  tell  me  now  that  when  it's 
all  over,  and  we've  done  our  bit  —  that  you'll  still  care 
for  me,  and  let  me  fight  for  you,  and  be  my  sweet 
heart?" 

"I  shall  always  care  for  you;  and  when  you  are 
through  fighting  for  Liberty  and  helpless  women  and 
children,  and  our  country  —  I  want  you  to  be  ready  to 
fight  for  me  —  my  own  Sherry !  " 

A  boyish  smile  came  on  his  face  as  he  lay  with 
closed  eyes.  "  Forever  and  ever,"  he  said  softly. 
"  And  —  don't  they  usually,  when  men  are  sick  and 
weak,  and  can't  reach  very  far  —  don't  dear  girls 
sometimes  put  their  faces  somewhere  near  — 

'  They  do,  Sherry!  "  she  cried.  "  At  least,  this  one 
does !  "  And  she  leaned  over,  and  pressed  her  face 
against  his  —  and  he  felt  warm  tears  running  down 
between  their  cheeks.  And  he  did  not  know  whether 
they  came  from  her  eyes  or  his  own. 

They  are  much  the  same,  perhaps  —  these  good- 
bys;  and  yet  all  are  different. —  A  few  hours  after 
ward,  Tom  Gilstar  picked  up  his  suit  case,  in  the 
kitchen  of  the  old  house,  and  stood  looking  at  his 
mother.  "  I'd  rather  you  wouldn't  come  to  the  sta 
tion,  mother,"  he  said.  "  I'd  rather,  somehow." 

The  little  old  mother  smiled  at  her  big  son  through 
her  tears.  "  You'll  stop  at  Antonia's,"  she  said. 

He  was  still  a  big  boy,  and  so  he  blushed  deeply. 
But  he  acknowledged  the  truth  of  it.  "  Yes,  mother," 
he  replied. 

She  patted  him  on  the  shoulder.  "  I  wouldn't  have 
it  any  other  way,  Tom,"  she  said.  "  Nobody  can  ever 


216  KHAKI 

take  you  away  from  me  —  they  can  only  bring  you 
nearer  to  me.  I  am  very  happy.  Remember  your 
father.  He  will  be  glad.  He  will  know.  Good-by, 
my  son." 

At  the  door  of  Antonia's  home,  Tom  met  Matt  Pil- 
licy,  just  coming  out.  The  good  habitant's  eyes 
sparkled,  and  he  threw  his  arms  around  Tom's  shoul 
ders  and  hugged  him.  "  A  la  bonne  heure,  Tom !  "  he 
cried.  "  It  is  an  honor  to  have  you  come.  What  a 
soldier !  You  are  going  to  France  ?  Our  people  they 
have  come  from  France,  many  years  ago.  Of  course 
I  know  nothing  about  it.  But  they  are  good  people, 
Tom,  and  you  will  like  them. —  The  little  girl  is  inside. 
She  will  be  glad  to  see  you  —  and  her  mother,  too." 

"There  are  twenty  minutes  before  the  train  goes," 
said  Tom,  as  he  entered.  "  I  thought  you  might  like 
to  walk  up  to  the  station  with  me,  'Tony. —  Yes,  Mrs. 
Pillicy,  I'm  off  this  morning." 

"  Que  le  bon  Dieu  te  protege,  mon  fils,"  said  the 
mother,  taking  the  big  fellow's  face  between  her  hands 
and  kissing  him  twice  on  each  cheek.  Then  she  threw 
her  apron  over  her  head  and  ran  away,  and  left  them 
alone. 

"  My  soldier !  "  cried  Antonia,  reaching  both  hands 
toward  him.  "  Oh,  Tom,  you  are  splendid.  I  don't 
know  what  to  say.  There  doesn't  seem  to  be  anything 
to  say,  that  counts,  any  more.  But  —  you  love  it,  now 
that  you  are  going,  don't  you?  I  know  you  do!  " 

"  I  believe  I  really  do,  'Tony.  Yes,  I  do.  I  don't 
feel  about  it  the  way  I  used  to.  You  remember,  'Tony, 
after  I  was  made  constable  — 

"  Oh,  please  don't  ever  mention  it,  Tom.  It  never 
happened,  and  nothing  was  ever  said.  I  knew  —  I  al 
ways  knew  that  you  were  what  you  are.  T  have 
always  thought  of  you  as  a  soldier,  Tom  —  really  I 
have.  When  we  were  in  school  and  you  were  so  much 


KHAKI  217 

bigger  than  me,  and  I  used  to  look  at  you  towering 
above  me  — 

He  took  her  in  his  arms,  and  she  looked  up  into  his 
face  with  those  big,  solemn,  wise  eyes  of  hers. 
"  'Tony,"  lie  said,  "no  matter  how  long  it  takes,  to  do 
what  we  have  got  to  do  over  there,  it  won't  seem  very 
long  afterwards,  will  it?  And  we'll  be  all  the  happier, 
won't  we  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  murmured. 

"  Sergeant  Gillis  says  I  can  have  a  furlough  after 
I've  been  in  camp  a  month.  A  day  or  two  perhaps.  I 
wondered  if  you'd  mind  if  we  were  married  when  I 
come  back  then.  I  know  it  doesn't  make  such  a  great 
difference  —  we'll  be  separated,  but  I  think  I  can  fight 
better,  and  wait  better  — 

"  I  want  to  be  your  wife,  whenever  you  want  me, 
Tom,"  she  answered.  "  I  am  all  yours,  all.  I  am  so 
glad  to  belong  to  you,  all ;  so  glad.  I  will  do  anything 
you  wish.  I  am  so  very  happy,  I  cried  all  night.  It 
was  beautiful." 

'  Then  when  I  come  back,  in  a  month,"  he  said, 
pressing  her  to  him. 

"  Yes  —  then.  And  then,  Tom,  I  shall  have  some 
thing  to  tell  you.  Oh,  it's  so  big  —  such  news!  No; 
I  can't  wait  till  then.  I  must  tell  you  now. —  You 
know,  Tom,  that  I  speak  French  very  well,  don't  you? 
I  mean  real  French,  not  Canadian.  The  Sister  we  had, 
to  teach  us  —  she  was  from  France.  Did  you  ever 
know,  Tom,  that  our  name  is  really  Pellissier?  I'll 
spell  it  for  you.  Nobody  here  could  pronounce  it  — 
they  wouldn't  try  —  so  father  had  to  spell  it  as  they 
said  it.  Isn't  that  funny?  Oh,  but  we  are  Americans, 
Tom,  no  matter  what  our  name  is.  Well,  I  speak 
French.  .And  so  I  am  going  to  France,  where  I  can 
fight,  too." 

The  big   fellow   was  so  astonished  that  his  hands 


218  KHAKI 

released    her.     "  Why,    you  —  you    mustn't    go    over 
there,  'Tony!"  he  cried.     "I  —  won't  allow  you  to." 

She  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck  and  pulled  him 
down  to  her.  "  Oh,  dear,  dear  man !  "  she  sobbed  and 
laughed.  "  I  like  to  have  you  say  that!  You  won't 
allow  me  to !  I  am  all  yours  —  all  yours.  I  am  so 
happy !  —  But  you'll  let  me  go,  Tom !  It's  such  a 
chance  to  serve.  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is.  They  want 
telephone  operators  who  can  speak  both  French  and 
English.  Don't  you  see  how  useful  we'll  be,  we  girls 
who  can  run  a  switchboard  in  both  languages  ?  I  said 
we  girls  will  be  fighting,  too,  Tom  —  and  we  will, 
won't  we  ?  though  we  can't  fire  any  guns !  I  sent  in 
my  name  a  few  days  ago  —  and  here's  the  telegram 
that  came  last  night!  Read  it,  my  soldier!  We  are 
going  to  France  together." 

He  read  the  few  words  on  the  yellow  blank.     "  To 
France   together !  "    he   echoed.     "  Did   you    know  - 
Alice  is  going,  too?" 

"  Alice  and  I  have  schemed  together,"  she  answered. 
"  We  refuse  to  knit  at  home,  Tom,  when  we  are  young 
and  strong,  and  able  to  go  to  France  with  our  soldiers. 
-  You  won't  say  I  can't,  will  you, —  my  husband !  " 

"  I  must  go  to  the  station,"  he  said,  taking  up  his 
suit-case.  "  We  must  hurry,  'Tony." 

"  Yes,  we  must  hurry,"  she  answered,  with  glisten 
ing  eyes.  "  We  must  hurry  —  to  France,  Tom.  You 
and  I.  We  are  Americans,  and  they  need  us  —  and 
though  we  need  each  other,  we  can  wait.  Come,  Tom ! 
I  am  ready." 


XVIII 

ONE  by  one  the  stars  come  out,  flicker  hesitatingly, 
and  then  glow  fixed  and  soft  upon  the  blackened  bat 
tlefields  of  Champagne,  of  Picardy,  of  Flanders,  and 
before  the  barbed  entrenchments  of  Toul.  A  few  men 
on  the  alert;  and  the  rest  of  the  weary,  muddy,  war- 
stained  men  pluck  moments  of  needed  rest,  and  think 
of  home,  and  of  the  ones  they  love,  and  serve. 

It  is  a  long  way,  and  a  fearful,  bloody  way  they  go, 
these  men.  Sometimes  the  end  of  the  road  is  not  very 
clear  to  us,  and  with  aching  hearts,  we  ask  why  these 
things  should  be.  And  sometimes  we  cannot  find  an 
answer,  and  it  seems  that  all  laughter  and  joy  and 
light  have  gone  out  of  the  world.  Yet  there  is  ever 
one  sustaining  thing.  We  know  that  he  who  dies  for 
an  ideal  will  forever  live;  and  that  without  ideals, 
though  a  man  should  never  die,  he  has  never  truly 
lived.  We  know  that  there  is  one  glorious  thing,  and 
one  fulfilling  thing,  in  life,  and  that  is  Service. 

We  in  Tredick  receive  many  letters  from  our  boys 
in  France,  and  the  letters  speak  of  many  things,  but 
always  there  is  one  clear,  strong  note  in  them :  they 
are  glad  to  be  there.  Always  they  think  of  home,  and 
of  us,  and  yet  not  one  of  them  would  have  it  other 
wise  than  it  is,  until  their  work  is  done.  Unflinching, 
strong  in  faith,  unwearied  of  soul,  they  face  the  fu 
ture,  and  bid  us  of  Tredick  to  be  patient,  clear  and 
strong. 

These  stars  of  France,  shining  on  our  boys,  shine 
upon  us.  The  same  winds  blow  over  us  all,  it  is  our 
mutual  sun,  and  the  ocean  touches  us  both.  We  did 

219 


220  KHAKI 

not  know  this  before,  or  if  we  had  known,  we  were 
forgetting.  We  were  thinking  that  we  lived  in  our 
little  world  apart.  We  know  better  now.  Wherever 
one  of  our  Tredick  boys  lies  asleep  in  France,  that 
little  spot  of  ground  is  part  of  Tredick,  and  shall  ever 
be.  And  there  is  not  one  acre  of  our  soil  in  Tredick, 
O  France,  that  is  not  yours  —  and  yours,  England, 
and  yours,  Belgium,  and  yours,  Italy  —  in  fee  simple 
—  to  have  and  to  hold —  for  the  use  and  behoof  of 
justice  and  liberty,  for  which  all  our  sons  and  brothers 
and  fathers  and  lovers,  do  covenant  their  lives. 

And  we  know  now  that  Khaki  is  no  mere  color  and 
weave,  but  a  living,  precious  thing.  It  is  the  symbol 
of  Service,  which  is  Life  itself.  Whosoever  shall 
wear  Khaki,  in  mind  or  on  the  body,  cannot  die,  for 
he  is  wedded  to  that  which  cannot  die.  It  is  the  very 
spirit  of  that  selflessness  which  "  conquers  death,  strips 
it  of  fear,  and  makes  it  almost  beloved." 

CHESTER,  MASS.     April  22,  1918. 


THE   END 


FEINTED    IN    TH«    UNITED    8TATI8    OT    AMKKICA 


"THE  following  pages  contain  advertisements  of  a  few  of  the 
Macmillan  novels 


ERNEST  POOLE'S  NEW  NOVEL 

His  Second  Wife 

BY  ERNEST  POOLE, 
Author  of  "  The  Harbor,"  etc. 

Cloth,  I2nto. 

Of  all  the  novels  published  in  1917,  Mr.  Poole's  His 
Family  was  voted  the  most  important  by  the  jury  making 
the  selection  of  titles  for  The  National  Arts  Club  Exhibit. 
This  fact  lends  importance  to  his  new  work,  which  once 
more  reveals  those  qualities  responsible  for  his  great  suc 
cess, —  his  keenness  in  character  analysis,  his  sure  dra 
matic  instinct,  and  his  skilled  handling  of  plot  and  situ 
ation.  Mr.  Poole's  central  theme  this  time  is  the  struggle 
between  two  wives,  one  of  them  living  and  the  other  dead, 
but  still  strongly  making  her  presence  felt.  This  theme 
gives  rise  to  a  series  of  incidents  of  appeal  and  power 
and  reaches  a  climax  which  for  sheer  force  and  original 
ity  excels  anything  Mr.  Poole  has  ever  done.  In  the 
characters  of  Ethel,  the  second  wife,  somewhat  idealistic, 
frank,  distinctly  lovable,  and  Joe,  her  husband,  an  archi 
tect  whose  higher  strivings  have  been  somewhat  killed  by 
the  materialism  of  his  first  wife,  Mr.  Poole  has  drawn 
two  figures  of  surpassing  interest,  which  will  take  their 
place  beside  the  father  and  the  daughters  of  His  Family, 
as  among  the  more  remarkable  creations  of  recent  fiction. 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

Publishers     64-66  Fifth  Avenue     New  York 


The  Tree  of  Heaven 

BY  MAY  SINCLAIR 

Cloth,  $1.60 

"  Thoughtful,  dramatic,  vivid,  always  well  and  at  times  beau 
tifully  written,  full  of  real  people  skilfully  analyzed  and  pre 
sented,  '  The  Tree  of  Heaven '  is  one  of  the  few  great  books 
which  have  as  yet  come  out  of  the  war." — New  York  Times. 

"  Miss  Sinclair's  genius  consists  in  being  able  to  combine  great 
art  with  a  popular  story-telling  gift.  All  her  detail,  the  many 
little  miracles  of  observation  and  understanding,  are  not  dead 
nor  catalogued,  but  are  merged  into  the  living  body  of  her  con 
tinuously  interesting  narrative."—  'New  York  Globe. 

"  Genius  illumines  every  page  of  one  of  the  most  impressive 
works  of  fiction  of  today.  It  is  a  novel  of  extraordinary  power 
and  worth  ranking  assuredly  among  the  novels  of  our  time 
which  will  make  a  lasting  mark  on  literature  and  upon  human 
thought  and  life." — New  York  Tribune. 

"  Miss  Sinclair  has  written  nothing  that  so  perfectly  represents 
the  chaotic  spirit  of  England  during  the  past  twenty  years.  The 
story  contains  much  of  matters  that  have  nothing  to  do  with  the 
war  and  in  all  of  them  she  has  portrayed  the  English  character 
to  the  life." — Boston  Transcript. 

"The  Book  of  the  day  is  'The  Tree  of  Heaven.'  It  is  a 
war  novel  —  a  gripping  one.  The  story  does  not  take  us  out 
of  England  except  in  a  few  letters  written  from  the  battlefields 
towards  the  close  of  the  book,  but  it  shows  powerfully  the  ef 
fect  of  war  on  England,  as  represented  by  a  typical  group  of 
people,  a  most  loveable  family,  and  their  varied  connections  and 
friends." —  Philadelphia  Telegraph. 

"  Stands  out  at  once,  and  emphatically,  from  the  common  run 
of  books  because  it  is  a  work  of  art.  ...  A  work  of  sheer 
artistry,  well  worth  the  doing,  and  done  at  the  full  strength  and 
compass  of  skilled  workmanship,  it  ranks  fairly  among  the  best 
work  of  its  kind  in  modern  fiction;  among  the  very  best." — 
New  York  Sun. 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

Jublisheri     64-66  Fifth  Avenue     Few  York 


The  Martial  Adventures 
of  Henry  and  Me 

BY  WILLIAM  ALLEN  WHITE 

Cloth,  $1.50 

"  A  jolly  book  .  .  .  truly  one  of  the  best  that  has  yet 
come  down  war's  grim  pike." —  New  York  Post. 

"  Honest  from  first  to  last.  .  .  .  Resembles  '  Innocents 
Abroad  '  in  scheme  and  laughter  ...  a  vivid  picture  of 
Europe  at  this  hour.  Should  be  thrice  blessed,  for  man 
and  book  light  up  a  world  in  the  gloom  of  war." — New 
York  Sun. 

"  A  unique  chronicle,  genuine  and  sincere." —  New 
York  Times. 

Here  is  a  book  of  truth  and  humor.  One  of  the  first 
stories  by  an  American  that  tell  what  America  has  done 
and  is  doing  "  over  there."  It  is  a  tale  such  as  Mark 
Twain  would  have  written  had  he  lived  to  do  his  bit  in 
France. 

Two  "  short,  fat,  bald,  middle-aged,  inland  Amer 
icans  "  cross  over  to  France  with  commissions  from  the 
Red  Cross.  Their  experiences  are  told  in  a  bubbling  humor 
that  is  irresistible.  The  sober  common  sense  and  the 
information  about  the  work  going  on  in  France  —  the  way 
our  men  take  hold  and  the  French  respond  —  go  to  make 
this  the  book  all  Americans  have  long  been  waiting  for. 

The  inimitable  sketches  of  Tony  Sarg,  distributed 
throughout,  lend  a  clever,  human  atmosphere  to  the  text. 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

Publishers      64-66  Fifth  Avenue      New  York 


First  the  Blade: 

A  Comedy  of  Growth 

BY  CLEMENCE  DANE 
Author  of  "  Regiment  of  Women." 

Cloth,  $1.50 

With  the  publication  of  "  Regiment  of  Women  "  Miss 
Dane  at  once  took  her  place  among  the  modern  novelists 
who  are  doing  important  and  interesting  work.  The  pub 
lication  of  this  new  story  is  sure  to  confirm  the  favorable 
impression  which  her  first  work  made.  It  may  be 
described  as  the  story  of  two  young  people  in  love  and 
their  development  under  the  influence  of  their  emotions. 
"  A  Comedy  Of  Growth,"  the  author  calls  it,  and  the 
sub-title  is  completely  realized.  It  is  comedy  in  the  true 
Meredithian  sense.  There  is  genuine  suspense  in  watch 
ing  the  actual  growth  of  two  persons  who  are  extraor 
dinarily  alive.  It  is  doubtful  if  more  unusual  characters 
have  appeared  in  recent  fiction,  than  these  two  central 
figures  of  Miss  Dane's.  The  minor  characters,  too,  are 
no  less  surely  drawn. 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

Publishers     64-66  Fifth  Avenue     Hew  York 


A     000129971     8 


